Softened Spark
by Sidekicks-anonymous
Summary: Post-Predacons Rising. Knockout may have changed sides, but slapping on a faction symbol doesn't change who you are. He's still a Decepticon at spark: manipulative, opportunistic, and selfish. So if he seems to be developing a connection to one of the new sparklings, rest assured it's just your imagination. Nothing can make this jaded mech go soft. Nothing.
1. How to Outwit a Sparkling

"Keep your optics open."

The sparkling obeyed as Knockout shone a light in her eyes. The blue orbs instinctively shuttered against the brightness and reopened when he moved the light away. As they should have.

"Good. Now hold still while I listen to your spark." Knockout exchanged the light for a tool like a stethoscope, which he pressed against the young bot's chest plates. The steady thrum of her spark pulsing sounded in his audio receptors—faster than an adult's, but that was normal. It still felt odd to Knockout, after millennia of piecing damaged soldiers back together, to find himself performing check-ups on sparklings. Since the war ended, his work had become far more…tame then he was used to. Small injuries and the occasional refugee with cosmic rust were all he was needed for. The rising generation of Cybertronians were his most pressing responsibility nowadays, and even that was limited to tending scrapes and doing routine diagnostics to confirm their health. Not that he minded it—the lack of medical emergencies meant more time for racing and buffing his paint job. It just felt… odd.

Shaking off the feeling, Knockout removed the stethoscope. "All right, you're done."

Hearing this report, the little femme jumped down from the berth. Knockout turned to the silver Autobot standing by the door—one of the caretakers for the new generation. "She's healthy as a scraplet. There shouldn't be any problems as long as she gets enough energon and recharge."

The silver robot nodded and took the sparkling's hand. They left together. Knockout drummed his fingers on the berth as he waited for the next patient to be brought in. His optics wandered around the room. He barely recognized his old med-bay anymore; the Autobots had been thorough when they'd converted the _Nemesis_ into a care center for the newsparks. His former quarters now housed a dozen young Cybertronians of various sizes, and the other rooms in the ship were similarly employed. The adults who'd once resided here had long since found other lodgings, himself included—few mechs had the patience to put up with a hundred sparklings as neighbors. He only ever came here now to do medical check-ups.

 _From fearsome warship, to nursery,_ Knockout mused to himself. _There's irony there somewhere..._

A sudden flurry of shouting from outside broke him out of his reverie. A moment later, the door slid open and a harried-looking femme hurried inside. Knockout straightened as she entered, noting her rush.

"Is something wrong?" He inquired. The femme seemed upset, but it appeared to more frustration than fear. "Are there any sparklings I haven't seen yet?"

"Yes, there are," the femme huffed, venting to cool herself off. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting; there's one more sparkling due for a check-up, but he's being…difficult." She gave him an apologetic look. "You know how children can be. If you'll just give us a few cycles, I'm sure we can convince him to come in."

Knockout huffed quietly. As Chief Medic of the Decepticons, no one had _dared_ to ignore an appointment with him. That was one of the benefits of a ruthless reputation; bots feared the consequences of irritating him more than they feared his less-than-tender ministrations. But now he had to play by Autobot rules, and they didn't look kindly on such practices. He'd have to try a different approach.

"Where's the sparkling now?" Knockout asked.

"He crammed himself into an air vent in the berthroom. It's too small for any of us to get into, or we'd try to pull him out…"

"Show me. "

The femme seemed surprised by the request, but she didn't press for an explanation. Knockout followed her down the halls of the _Nemesis_ to a room with bunks lining the walls. Knockout recognized it as the sleeping quarters for the drones—or at least, it used to be. At the back of the room, two more caretakers were crouching by a hole in the wall—a ventilation duct whose grate had been removed. One of the caretakers looked up as Knockout and the femme approached. His expression was one of hopelessness.

"No luck?" the femme sighed.

"We've tried everything, but he won't come out!" The mech seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

"Have you offered him an energon sweet? That might work."  
"It didn't."

"You're going about this the wrong way," Knockout interjected, gaining the caretakers' attention. "Let me handle this."

The caretakers stiffened at that statement. Knockout saw what looked suspiciously like fear flicker across the head-femme's face, though she tried to hide it. Knockout sighed inwardly at the reminder of his former allegiance. He knew that despite the faction symbol he now wore, the Autobots—even the most tolerant ones—didn't really _trust_ him. True, the sparkling caretakers were usually quite respectful, but he'd noticed the way they hovered nearby when he examined the young bots. They never left him alone with their charges—as if afraid he might suddenly revert to his "Decepticon ways" and tear the helpless sparkling limb from limb. He let out a scoff of disgust.

"Look," he snapped at the hesitant mechs, "I'm not going to bite, okay? Just back away from the vent a bit and let me talk to the kid."

The femme averted her gaze, ashamed that her prejudice had been noticed. But she motioned for the other mechs to move. The three caretakers retreated to the doorway, leaving Knockout to take care of the problem. The medic huffed again and turned his attention to the vent. Crouching, he could see the vague shape of a sparkling curled inside the duct, just out of arm's reach. The medic sat down with his back against the wall, purposely not looking into the vent. He took a moment to summon an air on nonchalance, as if what happened next had no importance to him.

"…So," he said, "You don't want to go to your examination."

There was a moment of silence.

"Don't need a 'zam-in-a-shun." A sulky voice muttered from the duct. "I'm fine."

Knockout nodded. "Yes, I hear that one a lot."

"Not comin' out." The voice said bluntly, as if there would be no argument on the matter.

Knockout had expected as much. He shifted on the floor, stretching out his legs to get more comfortable. "What's your name, sparkling?"

There was no answer from the duct. Knockout looked to the caretakers. "What's his name?"

The hopeless-looking mech fidgeted. "Sideswipe."

"Sideswipe." Knockout tapped his chin as if in thought. "That name sounds familiar—oh yes! Some of the other sparklings mentioned him!" he said, making sure he was loud enough to be heard down the duct.

The caretakers looked puzzled, but Knockout ignored them and went on. "I guess they were right, he was too scared to go through with a medic visit." He took on a faux sympathetic tone. "Yes, there's always one or two bots like that… He needs a light on during the night, too, doesn't he?"

A scraping came from inside the vent, as if its occupant had stiffened in indignation. Knockout smirked. He gave the befuddled caretakers a wink, continuing. "And he worries about monsters under the berth, most likely. I think one sparkling said he leaks transmission fluid during recharge—"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" More scraping, and suddenly a tiny head popped out of the vent to glare at Knockout. The medic raised his optic ridges, feigning surprise.

"Are you sure? I could've sworn that's what they said…"

"It's not true! They're lying!" The sparkling jumped to his feet. Now that he was in the light, Knockout could see the little mech had a red paint job and a helm that resembled a spiky hairstyle. His little optics blazed with righteous fury.

"I don't leak transmission fluid," Sidewipe said again, stomping a foot. "And I'm not afraid of anything! I'm the bravest mech in the sparkling center!"  
"Really? I guess I was misinformed, then." Knockout inclined his head in apology. He looked the sparkling up and down appraisingly. "You _do_ look rather intimidating."

Sideswipe puffed himself up at the words. "I'm braver than any mech here," he boasted,. "The other kids get scared when the lights go out, or when there's noises at night or when the big mechs tell spooky stories. But _I'm_ not afraid of anything."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. One time, there was a cyber-roach in the play room and the other kids were all screaming and running away from it, but I just walked up and squish-ded it." He looked Knockout straight in the optic and stomped his foot for emphasis. " _Splat_."

Knockout whistled. "That is impressive! You must be a very courageous mech." The medic looked around, and then leaned forward as if to share something secret. "I bet the other sparklings are jealous of how brave you are."

Sideswipe nodded grimly, and Knockout took the cue to continue "You know, the other sparklings are scared of medics. They don't like getting examinations; they cry, or try to run away. But a brave sparkling like you wouldn't do that, would you?"

Sideswipe started to nod, then stopped as Knockout's words sunk in. Knockout pressed a bit more. "If you went to your examination without putting up a fuss, the other sparklings couldn't say you were afraid. If they hear you tried to get of it, though…" He trailed off, letting the sparkling make his own connections.

Sideswipe furrowed his brow. He was clearly still torn; Knockout could see fear and stubborn pride fighting for dominance on his squinched face. He was so close, he just needed something to tip the scale… time for a tactic change.

"Oh! And your paint!" The medic exclaimed, making Sideswipe jump.

"What?"

"Your paint!" Knockout gestured to the sparkling's paint job. "You got it all scuffed up crawling in the vent! That's no way for a brave warrior to look." Knockout looked into the sparkling's optics earnestly. "All the greatest mechs keep their armor polished and pristine. Optimus Prime _never_ went out in public with scuffed paint."

Sideswipe's eyes widened at this new information. He examined his paint job with new concern.

"Tell you what," Knockout said, "I have wax and a buffer in my tool kit. Come with me and we'll have you looking proper in no time."

"Okay!" Sideswipe agreed excitedly. He raced for the door, not even waiting for the medic. Knockout got up and hurried to catch up with him. He allowed himself a smug grin upon seeing the caretakers' expressions. Autobot or Decepticon, he was still clever enough to outwit a sparkling.

* * *

 **Author's notes: I'm not totally pleased with how this came out. It's the brainchild of a crazy idea I had after seeing the 2015 "Robots in Disguise" series, and while I like the idea, I'm not sure I executed it very well. I'd like to add onto this-this chapter is only half the story-but knowing me, I'll probably never get around to it. If you like it, please let me know; reader praise is great motivation.**


	2. Playing Hooky

" _Slow down, you crazy child! You're so ambitious for a juvenile! But if you're so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid? Hmm-mmm..."_

Knockout hummed contentedly as the sounds of Billy Joel filled the med-bay. He turned up the volume on his internal speakers. Humans may be squishy, inferior little vermin, but their music was amazing. Not that he'd ever admit that to the Autobots—they'd read into it too much. Start thinking he actually _liked_ the species. No, his musical appreciation was going to stay private.

Normally, he wouldn't indulge in this hobby on the _Nemesis_ , but maintaining the medical equipment was tedious. Tighten loose bolts, tape frayed wires, make sure there weren't any scraplets in the machines—it didn't require much thought. The music helped pass the time. Besides, all the caretakers and their charges were currently out of the ship. The little ones were going on a field trip to the ruins of Iacon—an up-close experience with Cybertronian history, or something like that. Knockout didn't particularly care why they were gone, all that mattered was that he had the ship to himself.

"Slow down, what's the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out…" Knockout sang along softly as he slid out from beneath the machine he was working on. He dusted off his hands and started across the room to record the state of the equipment. Had he been less distracted, it might not have taken him so long to notice the small form standing in the doorway.

"Vienna waits—" Knockout stuttered into silence as he suddenly saw the red sparkling watching him. He reflexively cut off his speakers, ending the music. Silence loomed heavily over the room as he and the child stared at each other.

"I-what are you doing? How long have you been standing there?!" Knockout finally managed to stammer.

"I dunno—a few cycles." The sparkling shrugged. "Do you always sing to yourself?"

Knockout felt a stab of embarrassment. He craned his neck, trying to see if there was anyone behind the sparkling. "Aren't you supposed to be on that field trip thing? Where's your caretakers?"

"They went with the other kids; I stayed behind." The sparkling walked further into the room, looking around. Knockout scowled. Great—there was a sparkling playing hooky in his medbay, and all the caretakers were miles away traipsing around Iacon. He was going to get in trouble for this somehow—the Autobots would find some way to blame him, he just knew it. He let out a sigh.

"I'm calling the caretakers. Don't touch anything." Knockout ordered. The sparkling wandered around the room idly while Knockout commed the official caretakers about their wayward charge. They were understandably upset to learn about their failing; it was promised that someone would be along to collect the sparkling as soon as possible. Knockout sighed again as the comm ended. It would take at least a megacycle for anyone to get back from Iacon. That left him to entertain this unwanted visitor in the meantime.

"What are you doing in here?" The sparkling asked, eyeing one of the machines.

"Work." Knockout replied shortly. He was growing increasingly irritated by this intrusion. Now he had to watch a child in addition to getting his maintenance done, and everyone knew that sparklings were complete _monsters_ to babysit. And he didn't want to listen to his music while somebot else was present. That loss did not put him in the best of moods.

He folded his arms and glared at the sparkling who was so innocently looking back at him. "What glitch in your processor made you decide to sneak away from your caretakers? The fieldtrip wasn't optional."

"Didn't wanna go." The sparkling replied stubbornly. "It was dumb. Looking at a bunch of old buildings is boring."

"Hanging out alone in an empty ship is boring, too."

"I'm not alone. You're here." The sparkling said in a _duh_ tone. Something about him was nagging at Knockout's memory. As far as he was concerned, most sparklings were interchangeable, but he felt he should recognize this one for some reason.

With some difficulty, Knockout shook off the feeling. "Yes, well, I'm hardly the best company." He glanced at the unfinished maintenance checklist, then back to the sparkling. "I have work to do. Stay out of trouble until your caretaker comes."

"Can you buff my paint?"

The medic blinked in surprise. He gave the sparkling an incredulous look. "Whatever for?"

"Because! It's all scuffed and dirty." The little mech twisted to point out the blemishes. "You said brave warriors always take care of their paint job, and I wanna look like a brave warrior, but the other medic won't help me!"

Suddenly it clicked. "You're that sparkling from a few months ago—the one who crawled into the air vent!"

The sparkling puffed up in indignation. "Duh! You didn't remember me?"

"There's a lot of sparklings around, kid. I can't keep track of all of them." Knockout tapped his chin, frowning. "Your name was—Sideswing? Sideburn?"

"Sideswipe!"

"Right, right." He should have recognized the spiked helm—not many sparklings had such a unique feature. "So what was that about the 'other medic?' You mean Ratchet?"

"Yeah." The sparkling—Sideswipe—scowled at the name, his ire instantly redirected to the other mech. "He's mean. He told me paint wasn't important, and if I worried about it I'd turn into a—a 'nar-sis-ist' like you." Sideswipe stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

Knockour nodded sympathetically. Ratchet had rebuked him many times for "fussing over trivialities" like his paint. That mech failed to appreciate the importance of personal appearance. Knockout looked the sparkling over again with a new attitude. He didn't know much about children, but vanity was something he understood quite well. The machines could wait a bit longer.

"All right; I think I can make time for a quick touch-up."

Sideswipe perked up. "Really?"

"Anything for a fellow narcissist." Knockout smirked at the look of delight on the sparkling's face. Sideswipe clambered onto the medical berth while Knockout gathered the needed tools. The sparkling was surprisingly compliant, holding perfectly still while the medic polished his plating. Blue optics regarded Knockout curiously as he worked.

"You're different from the other bots," Sideswipe remarked after a while.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. You act different. And you got red optics. Nobody else has red optics." Sideswipe paused. "The older bots say you're a Decepticon."

The buffer shut off. Knockout took a deep vent. "Do they, now?" He asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

Sideswipe nodded. "They don't say it in front of us, but I hear them talking sometimes when they think we're not listening." The sparkling tilted his helm, regarding Knockout appraisingly. "But I think they're wrong. You can't be a Decepticon."

Knockout's anger was replaced by amusement. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. Decepticons are mean; they hurt bots. But you're not mean, so you can't be a Decepticon."

"That's an interesting line of reasoning." Knockout paused to meet the sparkling's gaze. "You're correct—I'm not a Decepticon. Not now. But I used to be."

Sideswipe's optics widened—though, to Knockout's surprise, he seemed more curious than fearful. Knockout explained further. "I only joined the Autobots after the war ended. Before that, I was a medic for the Decepticons. Your caretakers—" he said with a bitter smirk, "—have not forgotten that."

Sideswipe was silent as he mulled over this information. Knockout left him to his thoughts and resumed his buffing.

"…Do you miss it?" Sideswipe said after a while.

Knockout looked up from a particularly stubborn scratch. "Do I miss what?"

"Being a Decepticon." The question was asked innocently, without judgement or guile. Knockout found the sincerity in the sparkling's gaze disconcerting. "Did you like being a Decepticon?"

Knockout wasn't sure how to answer that. He'd honestly never thought about it before. It's not like anyone in Megatron's ranks had ever _asked_ him if he was happy there. His alliance had been a matter of survival—to leave it meant death. There _had_ been a time, when the war first began, that he'd truly believed in Megatron's cause… but vorns of battle and witnessed horrors had turned that loyalty into mere self-preservation.

"…No," Knockout decided, saying it to himself as much as to Sideswipe. "The Decepticons were not a pleasant group to be a part of. Being an Autobot has its downsides, but at least there's no chance of getting beaten just because my leader's in a bad mood."

"Did the Decepticons beat you?"

"Aaaand you're done." Knockout flicked off the buffer. "Hop down; I need to get back to work now."

Sideswipe jumped off the berth, giving himself a quick once-over to confirm that his paint job was acceptable. He soon turned his attention back to Knockout, though. His face was startlingly solemn. Knockout was struck by the intelligence in the sparkling's optics—not the look of a child asking idle questions, but of a bot trying to make sense of the world.

"Were the Decepticons really as bad as they say?" Sideswipe asked. Again, there was no judgement in his tone—simply curiosity, and a desire to understand.

"As bad, and worse." Knockout replied somberly. "I'm sure your teachers have dumbed down the more gruesome details to be suitable for little audials." His expression softened somewhat as memories weakened his usually-perfect emotional shield. "Of course… there were some good moments, too…"

"Like what?" The sparkling pressed, and those blue optics were so disarming that Knockout found himself answering.

* * *

A green-and-black mech speed-walked down the hallway, struggling to keep his composure. In reality, he was close to a panic attack. This was a disaster; how could they have left behind a sparkling?! They'd been so careful, taken so many precautions to make sure a mistake like this didn't happen, and yet somebot still slipped through the cracks!

 _Stay calm_ , his rational mind reminded him. This wasn't a disaster. Sure, it _could've_ been, but the sparkling was fine, safe on the nursery ship with a—a semi-responsible adult present. The mech gulped at that thought. They'd all been assured that the former Decepticon medic had proven his trustworthiness. Still, he'd only joined the Autobots recently—and only when it had become clear that his side had lost. The caretaker doubted Knockout would harm the sparkling, but he wasn't terribly fond of children, and his nurturing skills—well, they weren't suited to this task. Him being in charge of a sparkling was a situation that could fall apart fast. At last, the caretaker reached the med-bay. He took a deep vent and braced himself for the expected scene of chaos before opening the doors.

Laughter greeted him. The missing sparkling stood by the medical berth. His armor looked unusually bright, as if someone had polished it. He was currently bent over with laughter. Knockout stood to the side, gesticulating wildly as he apparently told a story.

"—Right on his face!" The medic exclaimed. "He looked so ridiculous, I couldn't help myself—I said 'Maybe you should change your footwear, Commander—high heels aren't good for this terrain."

The sparkling's laughter doubled until he was practically howling. Knockout joined him in his own giggling fit.

"Oh, I paid for it later, but the look on his face—priceless!" As Knockout spoke, he spotted the caretaker out of the corner of his optic. Immediately, he straightened up.

"Ah, there you are." The medic's chuckles subsided, though a grin remained. "Here for Sideswipe, I presume?"

"Uh—" The caretaker found himself speechless. The sparkling saved him from having to answer.

"But I don't wanna go! The story wasn't done!" The little mech whined. He looked from Knockout to his caretaker pleadingly. "Do I have to go?"

The caretaker collected himself. "Uh—well, the other sparklings are still waiting for us. And I'm sure the doctor has work to do. We wouldn't want to bother him."

The sparkling pouted furiously. He pulled away as the caretaker tried to hold his hand. "NO! I don't wanna!" He stomped the ground for emphasis

The caretaker winced at the outburst, but Knockout merely chuckled. "I'm afraid he's right, Sideswipe. I have work, and I'm sure your compatriots miss your company." The medic went to a drawer and fished out a small, silver packet. He held it out to the sparkling. "Perhaps this will make up for the inconvenience."

Sideswipe grinned at the sight of the energon sweet and snatched it. The caretaker took advantage of the distraction to grab the sparkling's shoulders.

"Thank you for looking after him. I'm so sorry for the trouble—" The caretaker began. Knockout waved his hand dismissively.

"No trouble at all. It gave me an excuse to take a break." He smiled at Sideswipe. "I'll finish the story next time you come in for a diagnostic, okay?"

"Okay!" Sideswipe agreed eagerly. He waved goodbye to the medic as the caretaker steered him out of the room. Knockout waved back with a bemused look. The med-bay door slid closed, leaving a baffled caretaker and a sparkling beaming in anticipation of his next check-up.

* * *

 **And there's chapter 2! Hope it wasn't too long of a wait. The song Knockout sings is "Vienna," by Billy Joel. Please leave a review when you're done! I want to know where I can improve.**


	3. Purely Practical

It amazed Knockout how much had changed in the last two years.

The "renewed" Cybertron at the end of the war had still been a barren wasteland-the ruins of a once-prosperous civilization now home only to scraplets and other vermin. In truth, the majority of the planet was still like that—it would take centuries to rebuild the cities that once existed. But two years had brought hundreds of Cybertronians back to the planet. Dozens of homes had been built over the rubble. Broken ground was replaced by smooth roadways. The _Nemesis_ , which had once been the most stable shelter on the planet, was now being criticized as unsuitable for the sparklings who lived there. A new care center was being built, and soon the warship would be nothing but an empty hull—if the Autobots didn't break it down for parts. It was amazing how quickly things changed.

Knockout drove through the streets, through the increasingly-dense section of buildings, until he neared the Well of Allsparks. The buildings—and the road—abruptly stopped five hundred yards from the Well due to a partition that had been built. And for a very good reason. As he reached the partition, Knockout transformed and continued past it on foot, taking care to avoid the glowing bulges that peppered the ground.

Sparklings. Or they would be, once they'd gestated long enough for a protoform to develop. The third wave of sparks since the return of the Allspark.

Knockout knelt down by one of the bulges. It wasn't any bigger than his hand, but already it was taking on an egg-like shape. The spark inside pulsed softly, barely visible through the metal. Its energy rippled through the ground, drawing material from the planet itself as eons-old programming formed the raw material into the shape of a body. On Earth, Knockout had heard of a myth that human infants grew out of the ground. The humans would be shocked to learn that that was exactly how it happened on Cybertron.

The sound of footsteps drew Knockout's attention. He looked up from the pre-spark to see the head caretaker coming toward him. The femme stepped gingerly around the pre-sparks as he had-treading on one could destroy the spark inside. Hence why they had partitioned off this area.

"Ma'am." Knockout greeted with a nod.

"Doctor." The silver femme nodded in return as she finally reached him. "Thank you for coming down. We'll start with the pre-sparks closest to town, then move in a clockwise motion around the Well—if that's all right with you."

"Makes no difference to me," Knockout shrugged. He pulled his scanning equipment out of subspace. For the next few hours, he examined the pre-spark bulges. Vital stats, damage, and abnormalities were reported to the head femme, who recorded them in a datapad. The sparks were dispersed in a wide circle with the Well at the center. Knockout marked a number and a white X next to every examined pre-spark, while those closest to hatching were marked with a red X. Slowly, they made their way around the circle.

At last, Knockout marked the last pre-spark. He straightened up slowly, stiff from so much time crouching. "Ugh… I'm glad I don't have to do this often. It's murder on the back-struts."

The head femme scrolled through the completed data while he stretched. "So they're all developing correctly?"

"Oh, yes. You'll need to keep an eye on that cluster at the north edge—they're not getting enough nutrients, we may need to provide supplements—but they should all make it to the sparkling stage." Knockout grinned at her. "In a few months, you'll have a new batch of kiddies to look after."

The head femme nodded, but the shadow of a frown crossed her face. Knockout's grin vanished.

"Something wrong?"

"Well, no…and yes." The head femme looked out over the field of pre-sparks, and Knockout realized suddenly how exhausted she looked. She sighed and turned back to him.

"You know there aren't a lot of caretakers on the planet," she explained. "We're already stretched to our limits. We need to get some of the older sparklings out of the care center to make room for this new wave."

Knockout raised his eye ridges. "You're not just going to set them loose on the planet, are you?"

"No! Of course not! But we've asked the Council to do something—they're going to have all the refugees capable of caring for a sparkling become guardians. It's unorthodox, but it's better than leaving them to be neglected in the care center."

Knockout was surprised at the announcement. Guardians were a fairly rare phenomenon—historically, most sparklings had been raised all together by groups of caretakers. Only a few bots ever adopted a sparkling to raise on their own. But then, historically, there had been a lot more caretakers available to care for the children. And raising kids in groups was a lot easier under the caste system. Then you could sort them out by rank and teach them only what they needed to know for their assigned station in life. The Autobots were zealous about allowing every bot to choose their own path—a policy Knockout approved of, but it did complicate the caretaking process a little.

Knockout felt the caretaker femme staring at him and suddenly realized he'd zoned out. From her veiled irritation, he guessed he'd missed something she'd said. "I'm sorry, I got distracted. So you're trying to enlist guardians, eh? Good luck with that."

The femme huffed slightly. "Did you hear what I asked you?"

Knockout searched his memory of the last minute. "Noooo…"

The femme sighed exasperatedly. "I think you should adopt a sparkling."

Knockout stared at the femme for a second, speechless. Then he burst out laughing.

"Ha, that's funny! I could almost believe you were serious—" His chuckles died down as her glare intensified. "Wait, you're not serious, are you?"

"You're a single adult, you have stable housing, you have skills that let you earn a steady living—"

"Oh, no—nonononono," Knockout held up his hands. "I'm sorry, I can't help you."

"But your situation is perfect!"

"Economically, maybe. But otherwise?" Knockout snorted. "I'm hardly fit to be a guardian."

The femme looked at him skeptically. "I think Sideswipe would disagree."

Knockout's amusement vanished. He turned to leave the pre-spark field, trying to ignore her gaze. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, don't play dumb." The femme followed him, still watching him in that infernal, knowing way. "I've seen you two interact. You've changed in the last year—you're more gentle. More genuine. You used to leave as soon as the check-ups were done; now you stick around longer. You even play with the sparklings sometimes. And it's pretty clear why."

Knockout scowled. It was true that he spent more time at the care center these days, but that was purely out of boredom. Ever since that field trip, Sideswipe sought him out whenever he could, and eventually Knockout had decided that even talking to a sparkling was better than sitting at home alone. And yes, he sometimes joined in the sparklings' games when Sideswipe invited him—but again, boredom.

"Sideswipe adores you," the head femme pressed further.

"He just likes that I give him energon sweets sometimes. And buff his paint." And the war stories Knockout regaled him with. But Knockout didn't tell those for the sparkling's benefit—he just liked to have someone listening to him. And Sideswipe just liked having someone pay attention to him; he would have adored anyone who gave him personal time. The caretaker was confusing selfishness with sentiment.

"In any case," Knockout added, meeting the head femme's optics, "My willingness is a moot point. I doubt the Council would allow someone with my past to care for a sparkling."

"It's not up to them," The femme countered. " _I'm_ the one in charge of choosing guardians. If I approve someone, the Council can't say anything against it."

"They'd find a way," Knockout said testily. They were outright glowering at each other now. The tension was so thick, you could've cut it.

The femme's expression softened all of a sudden. "It's your choice. I just hope you'll consider it." She looked at him earnestly. "Please?"

Knockout glanced aside, unable to take the stare. He gave a non-committal grunt. That seemed to be enough for the caretaker—she turned her pleading optics away. They'd arrived at the Nemesis sometime during the exchange. The femme went inside and Knockout began walking around its perimeter.

The femme's suggestion was ridiculous, of course. Him, a guardian? Pfft—an Insecticon would be better suited for the job. Knockout cared for only one bot in the world—himself. Raising a sparkling was a sacrifice, and Knockout was utterly self-centered. That would never change.

As Knockout turned a corner, a crowd of sparklings came into view. They kicked around a metal ball in some sort of game—Knockout couldn't fathom its purpose. Among the running bodies, he instantly picked out a specific one, notable for its bright red paint and well-polished armor. Sideswipe scrambled among his fellows, fighting for the ball. As if sensing that he was being watched, he glanced up. His face split into a grin as he sighted Knockout, and he paused his scramblings to wave. Knockout's arm moved automatically to wave back. He realized the gesture and stopped it. When had waving to Sideswipe become a habit?

 _No wonder the caretaker assumed what she did,_ he thought, frowning at his hand. He crossed his arms to prevent any more involuntary movement and went back to watching the children. They were so full of energy. He didn't remember being that hyper as a sparkling. Idly, Knockout wondered what would happen if they couldn't find enough guardians. Not all the refugees on Cybertron had the resources to look after another bot, even if they were willing to. Would the caretakers have to ignore the older, more independent sparklings to care for the new ones? What kind of effect would that have on the little ones? Knockout was no expert on sparklings, but he knew how neglect felt…

 _Hang on, am I actually considering this?_ He thought incredulously. _No! I'm not guardian material! I'd probably do a sparkling more harm than good._

 _Would you?_ A new voice whispered. Knockout was taken aback by it. He tried to brush the thought aside, but it persisted.

 _You're overcomplicating this,_ the voice continued—the oily, persuasive voice he generally used on other bots. _What does a sparkling really need? Fuel, shelter, and someone to make sure he doesn't get himself offlined. That's all. You could do all those things._

Well, sure, Knockout could provide the basics of life, but being a guardian was so much more than that—

 _Stop thinking of it as becoming a guardian,_ The voice pressured. _All the caretakers are looking for is someone to take a sparkling off their hands. Think of it as…an apprenticeship._

An apprenticeship?

 _Exactly. Adopt Sideswipe; teach him to be a medic. He gets a home and career training, and you get an assistant—and someone to help you buff those hard-to-reach places. It's a win-win situation._

Yes… yes, it was. And a purely practical one—no sentiment involved anywhere. Of course, the Autobots wouldn't see it that way…

 _Who cares what they think? Let them say you've gone soft; you know the truth._

Knockout nodded in agreement. Whatever anyone else said, he was still the same selfish opportunist he'd always been. That would never change.

"Knockout?"

A little voice—not in his head this time—brought Knockout back to reality. He glanced down to find Sideswipe peering up at him.

"Are you okay?" the sparkling asked with concern. "You've just been standing there with a weird look on your face."

"I'm fine. Just…thinking."

The answer seemed to satisfy Sideswipe. His grin returned. "Do you wanna play with us? You can be on my team!"

"Thanks, but not today." Knockout eyed the sparkling appraisingly. "Sideswipe—have the caretakers told you what they're planning for the older sparklings? Once the newsparks emerge?"

Sideswipe frowned again. "Not really… Some of the kids said there are too many sparklings here, and they'll have to get rid of some of us to make room." He looked up at Knockout with those innocent blue optics. "They wouldn't make us leave the ship, would they?"

"Of course not. You're far too young to take care of yourself." Knockout straightened up from his position against the wall. "Do you need to get back to your game, or do you have time to take a walk with me?"

Sideswipe looked from Knockout to the playing sparklings and back, clearly torn. Eventually, he turned his back to his peers. "I can walk with you," he decided. Knockout set off, the sparkling falling into step beside him.

"Where are we going?" Sideswipe asked.

"Just to the head caretaker's office," Knockout said, trying hard to ignore the churning in his tanks. "There's something I need to talk to her about."


	4. Bad Dreams

The hall was pitch-black. A small form groped its way down the corridor, optics straining to pierce the darkness.

At last, it found the door it was looking for and slipped into the room beyond. This room was just as dark as the hall. A berth was visible across the room, a sleeping mech dimly outlined on top of it. His calm, even venting was the only sound in the room.

The sparkling approached the berth. Cautiously, he poked the sleeping mech. "Knockout?"

The mech on the berth didn't stir. The sparkling hesitated, then poked the mech again. When that failed to produce a response, he gripped the mech's shoulder with both hands and shook. "Knockout!"

There was a snort and the cyclic venting stopped. The mech on the berth turned over to face the sparkling, red optics dim from sleep. "Sideswipe...?" Knockout muttered. He checked his internal clock and groaned when he saw the time. "It's the middle of the night…why are you awake?"

"I had a bad dream." Sideswipe whispered.

Knockout stared at him blearily. "Ooo-kay…" What did the sparkling expect him to do about it?

"I dreamt there were monsters outside and they were coming to eat me."

Knockout sighed. "Listen, Sideswipe, I promise there are no monsters. I'm the scariest thing within a hundred miles of here, and I'm far too tired to do anything monstrous right now."

Silence from the sparkling. Then: "Can I stay in your room tonight?"

Knockout blinked at him incredulously.

"And what, pray tell, would that accomplish?" the medic asked slowly.

"I won't have bad dreams if I sleep with you."

"The presence of other bots has no effect on recharge fluxes," Knockout said as he rolled back over. "You're just as likely to have a bad dream in here as anywhere else."

"I don't want to be alone."

Knockout didn't reply. He could feel Sideswipe's optics boring into the back of his helm. When several long moments had passed and the sparkling showed no signs of leaving, Knockout turned back over. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" He groaned.

Sideswipe solemnly shook his head. Knockout sighed in defeat. "Fine—you can stay in here. But just for tonight."

The sparkling's optics brightened. He clambered onto the berth and settled himself next to Knockout, forcing the medic to squish uncomfortably close to the wall. Knockout muttered to himself about the ridiculousness of it all. Sparkling logic… if Shockwave ever heard their reasoning, his processer would fritz.

Sideswipe, oblivious to Knockout's irritation, curled up comfortably with his back against his guardian's. "Good night, Knockout."

Knockout grunted, already slipping back into recharge.

"I love you."

Knockout stiffened, all weariness vanishing. He glanced over his shoulder at the sparkling next to him, an optic ridge raised questioningly. Sideswipe didn't seem to notice the discomfort his comment had caused. He was drifting off already, a content smile on his face.

Knockout laid back on his side of the berth, feeling unsettled somehow."Good night, Sideswipe." he whispered, nearly inaudible.

Sideswipe was soundly in recharge within a few minutes—but it took Knockout a long time to get back to sleep.


	5. Hide and Seek

**Merry Christmas, or any other holiday to you, my faithful readers! Thank you so much for following my work. Big thanks to GoldenEagle for beta-reading. Reviews are appreciated.**

* * *

 _2.5 years Post-War_

"Ugh…" Knockout groaned as he shuffled into the crude shelter he called home. He didn't even bother to take his medical kit out of subspace before collapsing on the nearest chair. What a nightmare… why did medical emergencies have to happen all at once? First the newsparks at the center had all needed maintenance, then a bunch of clumsy Vehicons had gotten themselves mangled during construction, and _then_ there'd been an outbreak of glitchmice… He wanted nothing more than to sit down with a cube of high grade and relax for a few cycles. But he couldn't do that; he had other responsibilities.

"Sideswipe, come here! It's time to refuel!" Knockout reluctantly dragged himself off the chair to get energon. Days like this made him rethink his decision to adopt. He just didn't have the energy to work like this AND keep a sparkling entertained. Sideswipe hadn't been making things easy, either—the little mech had gotten more and more rambunctious over the last few days. Knockout kept planning to take him for a drive to get some of his energy out, but he'd just been too tired lately. Sideswipe would undoubtedly spend the next few hours pestering him about it yet again… ugh. Knockout took a swig from an energon cube, hoping it would get him through the rest of the night.

A minute passed and Sideswipe failed to appear. Knockout sighed. The sparkling wanted to play hide-and-seek, he supposed—or he was giving Knockout the silent treatment. Either way, Knockout was not in the mood for such antics.

"I don't feel like playing games right now, Sides. Just come and refuel!" Knockout walked briskly through the small shelter. The sparkling was probably holed up in his room.

No? In Knockout's room, then.

If he wasn't there, he had to be hiding among Knockout's medical supplies.

Or—

Or—

Knockout's home was hardly spacious; there weren't that many places for a sparkling to hide. He went through it three times, searching every nook and cranny before his processor accepted the truth.

Sideswipe was gone.

"Scrapscrapscrap, where _is_ he?!" Knockout hissed. He should never have left the sparkling home alone, it was just begging for trouble! A strange feeling was taking over his processor. Panic, and something else. Panic he was well-acquainted with, but the other feeling was unfamiliar. Almost like—

"No!" Knockout growled. This was not the time to be analyzing his emotions. He offlined his optics, fighting to focus. Calm. Stay calm. He took a deep vent, getting his processor in order.

He could figure this out. He'd tracked down countless energon deposits on that mudball planet Earth; he could track down one AWOL sparkling. Think – where would Sideswipe go?

Knockout onlined his optics again. Still trying to quell his panic, he went outside. To the east was the center of the city. Only a few other structures were near his home; he'd purposely chosen to live away from the main cluster. In every other direction lay empty wilderness, void of any life except scraplets and other vermin. Knockout scanned the horizon. Although the terrain in every direction looked unfriendly, the area to the southwest was particularly rough—jagged hills and asymmetrical valleys, a nightmare for any bot in a wheeled alt-mode to navigate.

Exactly where a restless sparkling would go to play.

Knockout shifted into his alt-mode and sped off toward the foreboding area. His suspicions were soon confirmed; tiny tire tracks appeared as he got further from the city, going through the rusty residue that dusted the ground. He followed them as far as he could. Soon the flat ground was replaced by the jagged scenery Knockout had seen from afar. It was even more unpleasant than he'd first thought; boulders of ore created obstacles through the already-rough landscape. Everything was warped and stained from acid rain. Broken-off shards of the brittle metal littered the ground. Knockout transformed back to bipedal form—he could traverse this area more easily on legs than on wheels.

"Sideswipe!" He shouted, hoping the sparkling was close enough to hear him. His voice echoed off the metal around him, but no response came. Knockout reminded himself again to stay calm, and kept searching. His scout training helped him spot signs of Sideswipe's presence—a smudge of red paint showed where he'd scraped against a boulder, a scuff mark revealed where he'd scrabbled up a hill. Knockout tried to focus on following the trail, but his anxiety was growing worse. It would be dark soon; he couldn't track the sparkling in darkness.

"SIDESWIPE!" He bellowed. Again, the empty reverberations of his own voice were all that came back to him. He suppressed a sigh.

Suddenly he froze. That sound—was it an echo? He strained his audial sensors. It could've been his processor playing tricks on him, but he'd almost thought he heard yelling.

"Sideswipe!" He called again. There—an echo that sounded different from the rest!

"Sideswipe, keep yelling!" Knockout took off. It was a nightmare trying to track an echo—the bouncing sound fooled his sensors and sent him to dead ends—but the noise steadily grew louder. It led him to a valley edged with metal spires. A wide crack ran through it, as if the plates of the planet had tried to rip themselves apart.

Knockout cautiously slid down into the valley. "Sideswipe!"

"Help me!" The voice was unmistakable now. Knockout clambered down to the crack as hastily as he dared and looked over the edge. A small red form huddled at the bottom of the crevice, hunched awkwardly over a leg that was dripping blue. Optics rimmed with coolant tears peered up at the older mech.

"Knockout?" Sideswipe asked, voice quavering.

What happened next felt surreal to Knockout. It was like he'd been ripped from his body and was watching from a distance as someone else controlled it. It had to be someone else in control, because that couldn't be _him_ so gently tending to the sparkling's wounds; it couldn't be _him_ cradling Sideswipe close and whispering words of comfort. He didn't have the ability to calm a child like that. He didn't have that kind of tenderness. And yet, it was him that Sideswipe clung to as the sparkling was carried back home.

It wasn't until several hours later that Knockout came back to himself. He was seated next to Sideswipe's berth; Sideswipe was deep in recharge, swaddled in thermal blankets with his repaired leg in a brace. It had taken several energon sweets and a mild sedative to get him to sleep. But now that the trouble was over and all was quiet, Knockout was left to his own thoughts. And he didn't like where they were leading.

 _I was not panicking_ _,_ Knockout insisted to himself. _Any worry I felt was for my own welfare. The Autobots would have killed me if Sideswipe had offlined on my watch; it was just my usual self-preservation instinct kicking in._ But the argument didn't ring true. He'd always been good at lying, even to himself, but that ability seemed to be faltering in the current situation. Knockout rubbed his forehead tiredly. His forearm was covered in rust flecks and scratches. In fact, all of him was like that—his paint job had been utterly ruined getting Sideswipe out of that crevice. For some reason, he hadn't noticed at the time. What force could have been strong enough that his usual urge to look immaculate had been suspended?

The truth was, he knew what he'd been feeling when he'd discovered Sideswipe missing— and it wasn't self-preservation. It was something he'd only experienced once before, when Breakdown had been captured by that group of humans. It was concern—concern for a bot besides himself. And it had been far stronger with Sideswipe than it ever had been with Breakdown.

As Knockout stared at the recharging sparkling, Sideswipe fidgeted and turned restlessly in his nest of blankets. Having a bad dream, most likely. Without thinking, Knockout reached out and put his hand on Sideswipe's helm. Immediately the sparkling stilled. He unconsciously leaned into the touch, a sleepy smile crossing his face.

At the sight of that smile, warmth blossomed in Knockout's spark-and the medic realized he couldn't lie to himself any longer.

"Primus," he breathed. "I've become a guardian."


	6. Lullabyes

_Approximately 2.6 years Post-War_

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?!"

"No."

Sideswipe puffed his cheeks out, fuming. "No fair! You never let me stay up! Why can't I?!"

Knockout took a deep vent. Centuries as one of Megatron's officers had not prepared him for this challenge—getting a sparkling to go to bed. Experience had taught him only a few ways of dealing with resistance.

Method one: cut off limbs until the mech in question becomes more compliant. Not an option in this case.

Method two: Forcibly administer a sedative. Somewhat better, but he doubted that was how responsible guardians usually dealt with the problem. Knockout sighed.

"You need recharge to function properly, Sideswipe," he explained, trying to appeal to the sparkling's sense of reason. "If you don't get enough recharge, all of your systems will degrade and you'll be weak and unhealthy. I'm a medical expert; it would be wise to take my advice on this."

"Don't wanna recharge."

Right; sparklings were immune to reasoning. He'd forgotten. Maybe bribery would be more effective. "If you go to bed now, I'll give you an energon sweet."

Sideswipe stomped his foot. "I don't want a treat! I want to stay up!"

That sedative option was sounding more and more appealing… Knockout pushed that thought aside. If he was going to do this guardian thing properly, he needed to learn to address conflicts without violence. Think—how to solve this?

How to solve this…?

"All right. You win."

Sideswipe was taken aback by the sudden concession. But Knockout interrupted him before he could start celebrating his victory.  
"However," Knockout raised a finger. "First you have to prove to me that you really aren't tired. If you spend twenty minutes laying quietly in your berth and you're not in recharge by then, you can stay up as long as you want."

Sideswipe's face scrunched up in a pout. "I can't do nothing for twenty minutes! It'll be boring!"

"That's my offer, kid. Take it or leave it."

The sparkling frowned as he considered it. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "I'll take it."

"Good. Go get settled in."

Sideswipe scampered off towards his room, eager to get the quiet time over with. However, a hand held him back before he could enter his room. He looked back at Knockout in confusion.

"Not in there," Knockout said. "In _there_."

Sideswipe stared at the indicated door. "But that's _your_ room."

"Is that a problem?"

Sideswipe thought about it, then shrugged. "Guess not." He skipped through the door and crawled into the berth, turning in circles like a turbopuppy. Knockout, meanwhile, went to the corner of the room. A blocky object sat there covered by a tarp. Knockout pulled the cover off. Underneath sat a silvery instrument with a row of rectangular keys lining the front edge. Knockout ran a finger across its surface, entranced for a moment by the memories it stirred..

Sideswipe watched his guardian's actions curiously. He leaned over the end of the berth, craning his neck to try and get a better look at the object. "What's that?"

"You're supposed to be lying down," Knockout reminded him. Sideswipe quickly returned to his previous position. Once he was settled again, Knockout answered his question. "It's an instrument. Humans would call it a keyboard."

"What's it do?"

In answer, Knockout pressed one of the keys. The instrument emitted a high-pitched note, making Sideswipe jump back. The sparkling's surprise quickly turned to intrigue as Knockout pressed a few more of the keys, sending their tones through the room.

"A keyboard makes music, if you use it correctly." Knockout sat down in front of the instrument. "It's been a while since I've played it; I'm going to practice while I wait for your twenty minutes to be up. That all right?"

Sideswipe couldn't fathom why his guardian would want to make noise when he was trying to get Sideswipe to go to sleep. But, he figured, Knockout's playing would definitely keep him alert while he was serving this twenty-minute prison sentence. So the sparkling nodded and settled himself on the berth. "Don't forget—after twenty minutes, I get to stay up."

"I'm timing it now." Knockout assured him. He cracked his knuckles and poised his hands over the keys. A shiver of trepidation ran through him. He never thought he'd be playing this thing again, not after… well, not after certain events made him lose his taste for it. He'd taken it from the Nemesis mainly for sentimental value—he didn't like the thought of the Autobots using it for spare parts.

Knockout pushed the feelings aside. His fingers moved across the keys, tapping out a warm-up scale. He played it a second, then a third time. The familiar action soothed him. He'd missed this. Shaking off the last of his unease, Knockout ended the scale and began playing a slow, gentle tune.

"Good night, my angel, time to close your eyes… and save these questions for another day…" Knockout sang softly, playing as quietly as he could. His hands moved without thought, sending the melody floating through the room like a gentle breeze.

On the berth, Sideswipe listened to the music. It was far calmer than the stuff his guardian usually listened to. The music went up and down, back and forth like the gentle rocking of a ship on water. Knockout's soft singing intertwined with it, speaking of dreams and oceans and always being there for him. It made Sideswipe feel cozy...Safe...

"Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabyes go on and on. They never die; that's how you and I will be..." Knockout played the final notes of the song and let them hang in the air. He waited until they'd faded into silence before turning to check on Sideswipe.

The sparkling lay motionless on the berth, optics dim. His venting was the deep, slow vents of a bot in recharge.

Knockout grinned and leaned back against the wall, hands behind his head. "That wasn't so hard, now was it? I _am_ brilliant—"

The grin suddenly faded as he realized his berth was now being occupied by a sparkling that he couldn't risk waking up. "Aaand I'll apparently be recharging on the floor tonight. Brilliant, Knockout; really brilliant."

* * *

 **Thanks to GoldenEagle and journal129 for beta-reading. In my headcanon, Knockout plays the piano. Sometimes when I listen to songs, I imagine them being sung in his voice... Yeah, I'm obsessed. The song, by the way, is Billy Joel's "Lullaby." I highly recommend it.**  
 **Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review. :)**


	7. Imaginary Friend

_4 years Post-War_

Knockout stood up and stretched his backstruts. Organizing the supply room was _not_ his favorite activity. All that bending and lifting, it was terrible for his frame. He glowered at his store of medical supplies, now neatly stacked and arranged in piles. He missed the days when he could have a Vehicon do such menial work for him.

Knockout let out a tired sigh and left the room. It was time for refueling. Maybe he'd have something a little stronger than normal energon. As he went to his room, he heard Sideswipe's voice coming from the sparkling's quarters. His was the only voice, but it sounded as if the sparkling was having a conversation. Curious, Knockout went to Sideswipe's door and pushed it farther open. Sideswipe was sitting on the floor, stacking metal blocks into intricate towers and chatting away to thin air.

"And then he said—" Sideswipe looked up as Knockout came in. "Hi, Knockout! Are you done with your work yet?"

"Just finished." Knockout leaned against the doorjamb. "Who were you talking to?"

"Just Buddy."

Ah—his imaginary friend. Sideswipe had made him up a while ago, and talked about him fairly regularly. Knockout's Decepticon side scoffed at the idea of such a thing—encouraging fantasy like that distracted one from the more important matters of reality. But he couldn't bring himself to explain that "Buddy" was just a figment of the sparkling's imagination.

Instead, he waved casually at the empty space in front on Sideswipe. "Hello, Buddy; how are you today?"

Sideswipe paused in his block-stacking, as if listening to someone. "He says he's fine, and that you have a scuff mark on your shoulder."

Knockout automatically twisted to look at his shoulder, which was as immaculate as always. He scowled. An imaginary friend with an attitude—terrific.

"Tell him thanks for the information." Knockout straightened up. "I'm going to go refuel. Are you or Buddy hungry?"

"I'm not. And I've told you before, Buddy doesn't need to refuel." Sideswipe scowled at his guardian.

"My apologies; I'll strive to remember in the future." Knockout waved a hand in farewell and left, intending to thoroughly polish both of his shoulders before stepping foot in public.

After he was gone, Sideswipe turned to the air next to him. "Sorry about that; he always forgets."

"It's okay," a deep voice assured the sparkling. "I think you should put more blocks on the bottom—otherwise it'll fall over."

Sideswipe frowned at his little tower, considering the suggestion. He stacked more blocks around the base, giving it a sturdier foundation.

"Why can't Knockout see you?" Sideswipe asked after a bit.

The mech next to him shrugged. He was big, much bigger than Knockout, but completely translucent—Sideswipe could see the wall through his softly-glowing torso. "Grown mechs usually only see what they want to see. Even if he did see me, he'd probably think it was his optics playing tricks on him."

"Hmm." Sideswipe stacked a few more blocks. "That's too bad. I wish he could see and hear you like I can."

The blue mech gave a sad smile, his ghostly yellow optics dimming slightly. "Yeah… I wish he could see me, too."


	8. Pain

****Note: Some of you have received an update alert. The new chapter is the SEVENTH one. I apologize, it's undoubtedly confusing, but I decided the new chapter needed to come before this one chronologically. Please see chapter 7 for the update.  
Shorter chapter this time, but hopefully still good. Be warned, though-my beta-reader was apparently killed by the feels. Proceed with caution.**

 **The song Knockout sings, by the way, is Elton John's "Daniel."**

* * *

 _5 years Post-War_

It wasn't meant for him; Sideswipe realized that later. But at the time, he could only wonder what he'd done wrong.

It'd been a normal day. Knockout hadn't been called out to repair anybody, so they were both at home. Sideswipe was outside, playing with some toy cars his guardian had made out of scrap parts. Knockout had watched him at first, but after a while he'd vanished into the house with a warning to not wander off. That was fine with Sideswipe—at the moment, everything he wanted was right here.

Soon, though, staging miniature car crashes got boring. Sideswipe shoved the crude little vehicles off to the side and flipped onto his back. The sun was unbelievably bright; it nearly blinded him as he squinted up at it. How did the sun stay so bright, anyway? The teachers at the care center had said it used some kind of gas to burn, but they'd also said Cybertron's sun was billions of years old. You'd think after that long it would have run out of fuel.

This was boring. Sideswipe rolled to his feet. Maybe Knockout would take him for a drive. Driving was fun, especially when they were out of the city and they could go as fast as they wanted. As long as they stayed away from the southwest hills… Sideswipe shuddered a bit. He didn't like to think about that place. Quickly, he gathered up his toys and went inside.

As Sideswipe approached his guardian's door, he heard music from the other side. His guardian was playing the keyboard. Sideswipe grinned—he liked hearing his guardian sing. He leaned up against the door to listen.

"—I can see the red taillights heading for Spain," Knockout's voice trickled through the door. He sounded… different than usual, though. He usually seemed so much happier than he sang. Now, listening to him made Sideswipe want to cry.

"Daniel, my brother! You are older than me. Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal? Your eyes have died, but you see more than I—" Sideswipe heard Knockout choke all of a sudden. When he continued, his voice was shaking.

"Daniel, you're a star in the face of the sky…" Without warning the music stopped. There was a clunk, and jumble of mismatched notes. Sideswipe mashed his face closer to the door. Why had Knockout stopped singing? If he strained his audials, he could hear something quiet, but it didn't sound like singing. It sounded like—

—crying?

Sideswipe shoved the door open and rushed inside. "Knockout!"

His guardian was hunched over the keyboard. His hands were over his face, but he looked up as Sideswipe called his name. The coolant pooled around his optics confirmed Sideswipe's suspicions. The sparkling hurried to his side. "Don't cry, Knockout! It's okay—"

"What the slag are you doing in here?!"

Sideswipe jumped back as his guardian surged to his feet. The look on his face made Sideswipe's oil run cold. "I—"

"Don't you understand privacy?! The door was closed for a reason, slaggit! What's wrong with you?!"

"I…" Coolant welled up in Sideswipe's optics. He didn't like this version of Knockout—Knockout wasn't supposed to be angry and mean. He turned and fled the frightening doppelganger of his guardian. Instinct took him to his room; he threw himself onto the berth, letting the sobs take over. Why had Knockout yelled at him? He hadn't meant to make him mad; he'd just wanted to make Knockout feel better. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? Sideswipe sniffled, fuming at the injustice of it.

Quiet footsteps invaded Sideswipe's bubble of misery. Joints creaked as someone knelt down next to his berth.

"Sideswipe…" his guardian said gently. Sideswipe kept his face buried in his thermal blankets. He didn't want to face Knockout right now. Knockout seemed to understand that and didn't say anything more. But he rested his hand on Sideswipe's backplates, rubbing in circles over the metal. The action was soothing, and slowly Sideswipe's sniffles died down.

"Sideswipe?" Knockout tried again. Sideswipe finally looked up and met his guardian's gaze. The coolant tears were gone now, but so was the angry face.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Sides. That was wrong of me," Knockout said softly. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Sideswipe scrubbed away the tears with one hand. "I just wanted to know why you were crying," he muttered, his expression like a kicked turbopuppy. On any other day, Knockout would have brushed off the question, but those coolant-rimmed optics pierced him to his spark.

Sideswipe learned two things that day. He found out about his guardian's best friend, who had offlined in the war and always came to mind when Knockout sang that song. And Sideswipe learned, indirectly, that pain wasn't a public emotion. It was something you only let out where no one else could see it.

He wouldn't forget that.


	9. Things That Go Bump (Part I)

_5 years Post-War_

Sideswipe stared at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. Outside his window, it was pitch-black—not even close to morning yet. Every time he closed his optics, he became aware of all his tiny discomforts—the chilly air, the strange little noises from outside, the way the berth made his neck bend at an uncomfortable angle. He flipped onto his right side, then to his left. Then he sighed. This was hopeless.

As quietly as he could, Sideswipe slipped out of bed. Maybe a snack would help him get back to recharge. He opened his door and tiptoed out into the hall.

That was odd—the lights in the supply room were on. Who was in there? Knockout was the only other bot in the house, and he should've been in recharge ages ago. Sideswipe crept forward and peered into the room. It _was_ Knockout. He was packing things into his medical kit—energon, mesh bandages, sterilizing solution. Just refilling it, Sideswipe supposed. But why do that now, in the middle of the night? Was there an emergency he had to take care of?

Suddenly Knockout picked up his kit and turned around. Sideswipe hastily backed up. His guardian closed the supply room, not even noticing the sparkling hiding in the shadows.

"He'd slagging better appreciate this…" Knockout muttered under his breath as he closed the door. Sideswipe watched him subspace his kit and leave the house. He waited for a few moments, but Knockout didn't come back inside. That made him worry. Knockout hadn't left him home alone since the ravine incident, and never at night. Even if there was an emergency, he should've woken Sideswipe up to go with him.

The sparkling tiptoed out the door. He looked toward the city, but there was no sign of a red sports car driving down the dark streets. Confused, the sparkling looked in the other direction. There he saw the lit taillights of his guardian, driving swiftly to the west.

There was nothing but ruins and empty land to the west.

Where was Knockout going?

Quickly, Sideswipe shifted into his alt-mode. His curiosity got the better of him. Knockout had told him to never go into the wild by himself, but—technically, if Knockout was out there too, then he wasn't alone, right? The sparkling revved his little engine and took off after his guardian.

He soon lost sight of Knockout. The older mech was really gunning it, and even pushing his engine to the limit, Sideswipe could barely go half as fast as his guardian could. But he kept at it anyway. The rusty residue on the ground retained Knockout's tracks, so Sideswipe could follow them. And he did—for _hours_. It felt like hours, at least. The darkness began to play with Sideswipe's imagination. Was that a rock, or a monster waiting to jump out at him? Was that small hole actually the pit of a venomous cyber-viper, ready to strike as soon as he got within biting distance? Sideswipe tried to shake off his fears, instead focusing on the tire tracks illuminated by his headlights. They seemed to go on forever. His wheels were aching and his engine overheating by the time he saw a light in the distance.

Encouraged, Sideswipe hurried toward it. He sped down a hill onto a plateau littered with large boulders. He transformed to robot mode—he didn't want Knockout to hear him coming. As silently as he could, he crept toward the light. It looked like headlights—they were bobbing up and down, like their owner was moving around in bi-pedal form. The light revealed the outlines of two mechs. One of them was surely his guardian—that red finish flashed in even the dimmest light. The other one seemed to be a much bigger mech. The glimpses of plating Sideswipe could make out were a dull gray, nothing like Knockout's lustrous paintjob.

As Sideswipe got closer, he noticed glowing puddles on the ground. They were rapidly disappearing, being soaked into the ground, but that blue shimmer was familiar. The puddles seemed to be pooling around the boulders. Sideswipe crept up to one. Looking closer, he realized how lumpy these boulders were. It almost looked like somebot laying down. He leaned over one of the puddles, squinting at the boulder.

And gasped.

The boulder had a _face_. A horrible, ghastly face with a red visor and giant pincers. And those didn't just look like arms, they _were_ arms, and legs covered with metal spikes. This wasn't a boulder, it was a body! Sideswipe scrambled away from it, falling on his behind. It was a bot, like no bot he'd ever seen before, and it was—

Sideswipe looked around in horror. All those blue puddles… glowing like energon. Leaking from dozens of motionless, grayed-out bodies. It was field full of bodies, and… they were dead. They were all dead.

Sideswipe felt like he was going to purge.

He scrambled up and ran from the bot, the _dead_ bot, that he'd been looking at. He needed to find his guardian. What was Knockout doing here, in this collection of corpses?! And why had Sideswipe followed him here, what had he been thinking?! He fought down his nausea and made for the light. Soon he was only a dozen yards from it. Now he could clearly see both his guardian and the second mech. Suddenly nervous again, he hid behind a boulder—a real boulder this time—to observed the two bots.

"—should really be more careful," Knockout was saying. He looked like he was wrapping a bandage around the other mech's arm. "You're not invincible, my liege."

"Don't call me that," The other mech growled. He was massive—almost two heads taller than Knockout and much broader. His armor had lots of points and sharp edges, although they were so dented that Sideswipe doubted they were sharp anymore. His frame was covered in blue stains—the sight of them made Sideswipe want to purge again. He couldn't see an Autobot symbol on the mech—just a scratched-up spot on his chest where the faction symbol should've been. But he _could_ see the red optics glowing underneath the bot's helmet.

"I am no one's liege anymore," the scary-looking mech continued. "I am merely a relic of the past, drifting across the planet in the wind with the rest of the detritus."

"You've gotten awfully poetic." Knockout quipped. He finished with the bandage he was working on and got another from his kit. "I see you've kept busy in your isolation."

The scary mech eyed the surrounding corpses with distaste. "The Autobots have enough to deal with without worrying about these monstrosities. It's a small atonement for my misdeeds…"

"And I'm sure they'd appreciate it, if they knew about it." Knockout continued working in silence, wiping away the blue stains on the mech's frame and fixing his injuries. Sideswipe watched with morbid fascination, unable to look away.

Behind Sideswipe, one of the dead frames twitched. Its visor flickered, then lit up with a dim red glow. The creature moved its head sluggishly. Its mangled plating creaked with the movement, but Sideswipe was too engrossed to notice it. The creature, however, noticed him. The scent of fresh, warm energon reached its sensors—triggered a hunger that overpowered its pain. It pushed itself up, every thought besides feeding vanishing from its mind. And Sideswipe kept his optics fixed on the light, oblivious to the monster rearing up behind him...

* * *

 **Aaaaand cliffhanger, because I'm evil like that. Have fun waiting for the next update. Mwa-ha-ha!**


	10. Things That Go Bump (Part II)

**I... don't feel like this is up to my usual standards. Hope you guys like it anyway.**  
 **My thanks to Autobotguy710 and journal129 for beta-reading. And a final shout-out to GoldenEagle13. Thanks for being my beta for so long!**

* * *

Knockout cut another bandage from the roll. His former master sat silently on a convenient rock, optics scanning their surroundings. He barely seemed to notice his wounds, even as they leaked energon on his feet.

"I know you pride yourself on your combat skills," Knockout said, wrapping the bandage around a gash on Megatron's forearm. "But you really should be more careful. You're not invincible, my liege."

"Don't call me that!" Megatron growled, his old ferocity returning for a moment. It quickly faded, however, and he went back to his new, sulkier self. "I am no one's liege anymore," he sighed. "I am merely a relic of the past, drifting across the planet in the wind with the rest of the detritus."

 _Yeesh, he's gotten cheesy_ , Knockout thought with disgust. He didn't say that aloud, of course; he'd learned long ago to watch his tongue around Lord Megatron. "You've gotten awfully poetic," he commented instead. He cast a brief glance at the corpses around them. The sight gave him the creeps. "I see you've kept busy in your isolation."

Megatron surveyed his handiwork distastefully. "The Autobots have enough to deal with without worrying about these monstrosities," he muttered. "It's a small atonement for my misdeeds."

The warlord sounded almost…regretful. Knockout never thought he'd see the day when the Decepticon leader voiced true remorse. Perhaps he really had had a change of spark. "I'm sure they'd appreciate it if they knew about it," Knockout assured him. Megatron didn't respond—he continued his silent contemplation of the battlefield around them. Knockout decided it would be best to stop talking now.

As he worked, his mind wandered briefly to Sideswipe. He hadn't been able to shake off his anxiety about the sparkling. Ever since Sideswipe had run off and gotten hurt, Knockout didn't feel comfortable leaving him by himself. Once again, Knockout tried to reassure himself. Leaving Sides alone had been the best option; when he'd received Megatron's message requesting repairs, it had been too late to find someone to look after the sparkling. And he certainly wasn't going to bring Sideswipe along—if was far better for him to be home alone than here, miles from civilization, in a field of recently-slaughtered Terrorcons.

Besides, Sideswipe had been sound asleep last time Knockout checked on him. By the time he woke up, Knockout would be back and Sideswipe would be none the wiser to this late-night trip. That was best, anyway. Knockout didn't need anyone knowing that he'd paid a house call to the former Decepticon leader.

Knockout finished welding the tear he was working on and stepped back. "All right, that should do it. How do you feel, my liege—I mean, sir?"

Megatron rubbed the repaired area tentatively. "I feel fine. Excellent work as usual, Knockout."

A compliment from Megatron-this night was full of surprises. Knockout went over the repaired areas, double-checking everything. "The bandages should prevent contamination until your self-repair systems finish fixing things. Don't take them off for a couple days. Are you sure you weren't bitten?"

"I'm certain," Megatron said, standing up. That was the biggest concern when dealing with Terrorcons. A scratch would heal, but you couldn't reverse the effect of a bite. Knockout had been hesitant to come out here with the risk of Megatron being infected, but he'd decided it'd be better to comply. Reformed or not, the former gladiator was not someone he wanted to anger.

Satisfied with his work, Knockout re-packed his supplies. "Take it easy for a little while; you don't want to reopen those welds," he advised. "I might not be able to come next time you need repairs—"

He was interrupted by a scream. Both he and Megatron jerked around at the sound.

"What in blazes—" Megatron began, but Knockout didn't hear him. That scream, which was _far_ too familiar, froze him in his tracks. _It's impossible… He can't be here—!_

Knockout bolted toward the scream, all sense of caution lost. "SIDESWIPE!"

* * *

Sideswipe's only warning was the creak of metal grating against metal. It came from behind him, where nothing should have been moving. He turned quickly and scarcely had time to register the monster lunging for him.

"Aaah!" Sideswipe shrieked as he dove out of the way. The monster smacked its face into the boulder behind him. It hissed in pain and swung to face him again. The monster was one of the dead bots. It dripped streams of blue from its wounds as it lurched to its feet. Standing, it was even taller than the scary mech Knockout had been helping. A long tendril sprouted from its mouth, like a cyber-viper's tongue tasting the air.

It lunged again. Sideswipe scrambled away. The creature landed heavily, mere inches away from him. He tried to run, but a claw-like appendage hooked his foot. He fell to the ground with a yelp. The creature dragged him backwards. Sideswipe clawed furiously at the ground, screaming. His hand found a rock. Acting on instinct, he snatched it up and twisted to face the monster. Its hideous face filled his vision like a nightmare come to life. Quickly, he hurled the rock at it. It cracked the creature's glowing visor. The thing let out another shriek, and Sideswipe scrabbled out of its grip while it was distracted.

"KNOCKOUT!" He screamed for his guardian as the monster reared up for another strike.

An energon staff flew through the air. It embedded itself in the creature's neck cables. The monster let out an oil-chilling screech as electricity coursed through it. Sideswipe saw a red blur at the edge of his vision and suddenly he was scooped into Knockout's arms. The sparkling clung to him as he raced away from the monster. Over Knockout's shoulder, Sideswipe saw the monster shake the staff loose. It swung with a hiss to face them, preparing to give chase.

A _boom_ echoed across the plain, so loud it made Sideswipe's audials ring. All of a sudden, there was a hole through the creature's spark chamber. It froze, staring dumbly at the gaping wound.

There was another boom, and the creature shrieked as its arm was blown off. It fell to the ground. The scary-looking mech was standing behind it, his arm raised. The massive cannon on his forearm glowed with heat. Sideswipe dimly realized that the big mech had shot the monster.

As soon as the creature had been shot, Knockout screeched to a halt. He fell to his knees and pulled Sideswipe face-to-face with him, gripping the sparkling's arms painfully tight. "Did it bite you?" the medic demanded.

The intensity in his optics was frightening. Sideswipe struggled to get out of the too-tight grip. "Let me go-!"

"Did it bite you?!" Knockout shouted, shaking him. The motion made him nauseous. At that point, Sideswipe's systems decided they'd had quite enough shock for the day. Sideswipe doubled over and purged on his guardian's feet.

Knockout abruptly let him go. Sideswipe emptied his tanks on the ground, coughing at the taste of half-processed energon. He was trembling, he realized. He couldn't seem to make himself stop.

Sideswipe retched again, although there was nothing left to come up. He was vaguely aware that Knockout was next to him, rubbing his backplates. Sideswipe huddled against his guardian. Murmured reassurances filled his audials, though he didn't really register any of them. He nuzzled into Knockout's side, trying to get as far from the outside world as possible.

Knockout held Sideswipe close, feeling the sparkling shiver. He glanced back at the Insecticon. Megatron was in the process of dismantling it. It had better _stay_ dead this time. Knockout turned his attention back to the terrified sparkling in his arms. Sideswipe was scraped and scratched, but Knockout didn't see any bite marks. _Oh, Primus, please don't let him be infected…_

Megatron tossed the Insecticon's severed head aside. He approached Knockout, eyeing the sparkling curiously. "Where did the child come from?" He asked, his confusion evident.

"He's mine. He's supposed to be at home. I didn't know he'd followed me here…"

Megatron cocked his head incredulously at the medic. " _Yours_?"

"Yes, mine." Knockout bristled at the warlord's disbelief. "He's my charge."

Megatron did not look convinced. "I find it hard to believe they would allow someone of your—reputation—to care for a sparkling."

"It doesn't matter what you believe." Knockout snapped. For some reason, his usual fear of the gladiator vanished as he held Sideswipe near. "Your repairs are done. You can go back to drifting along with the detritus."

Megatron stared at him coldly. Knockout instinctively cringed back—he knew what that look meant. He braced himself as Megatron stepped forward. But the gladiator didn't strike him. He knelt down next to them. Sideswipe glanced up, looking into war-weary red optics with his innocent blue ones. Then—to Knockout's bewilderment—Megatron smiled. Not the sardonic smirk that he wore right before ripping someone's helm off, but an actual smile.

"What's your name, sparkling?" Megatron asked softly.

"…Sideswipe," the sparkling muttered. He seemed wary of the strange mech. They looked at each other for a long moment. Then, with a gentleness Knockout didn't think possible from the ex-gladiator, Megatron stroked the sparkling's helm.

"It would be wise not to repeat this excursion, little one," Megatron said softly. "The wilds are no place for a sparkling." With that, he stood up. Sideswipe watched him transform. A sonic boom rippled through the air as the big mech flew off.

"Who was that?" He asked Knockout. His guardian stared after the retreating mech, his face expressionless.

"…No one important," Knockout said finally. "Come on; let's get you home."


	11. Mein Leben

**I was going to put this up on Saturday, but I couldn't wait any longer. Hope you all enjoy it!**

* * *

Knockout couldn't remember when he'd come up with the name. It just popped into his processor one day—a fitting endearment, although far too sappy for his taste. It stuck in his head for some reason, coming to mind whenever he saw Sideswipe.

He _did_ remember the first time he'd said it aloud, though. It was early in the evening, just as the sun was setting. Sideswipe was demolishing block towers with his toy cars. Knockout was doing his best to ignore the clattering sounds and finish the paperwork he was doing. Paperwork…one aspect of civilization he could do without. Unfortunately, he desperately needed to expand his work space. To do that, he had to get through the red tape that the council had instated. Blast Ultra Magnus and his bureaucratic tendencies…

Sideswipe seemed to sense his guardian's ire and paused his playing. "Are you okay, Knockout?"

Knockout flashed the sparkling a strained smile. "I'm fine; just sick of filling out forms."

"Oh." Sideswipe thought for a second. "Can I help you?"

Just hearing the offer made Knockout's stress melt away. He smiled more sincerely. "That's all right, _mein leben_ , but thank you."

"What did you call me?"

Knockout froze. Had he really just say that? It'd just slipped out. "Er…"

Sideswipe cocked his head, his little brow furrowed. "What's 'mine lay-bin' mean? It's not Cybertronian."

"It, uh…" Knockout fumbled for an excuse. Fortunately, he'd had a lot of practice making up cover stories. It was only a few seconds before inspiration struck. "It's an Earth language," Knockout explained. "It means…'troublemaker.'"

Sideswipe scowled. "But I'm not making any trouble!"

"Oh, maybe not now—but you're still a troublemaker." Knockout poked him in the midsection, prompting a giggle from the sparkling. "You've always been my little troublemaker."

Sideswipe scrambled away, still giggling, as his guardian tickled him again. Knockout smirked. He supposed it was silly to lie to Sideswipe, but old habits die hard—he couldn't bring himself to show that much sentimentality. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

 _Mein leben_. My life. But Sideswipe didn't need to know that.


	12. Old Friend, New Friend

**A few people requested another story about Buddy. I hope it meets expectations. Thanks to AutobotGuy710 for beta-reading!**

* * *

 _6 Years Post-War_

The crayon rasped drily as it moved over the foil. Sideswipe frowned at the picture, then scribbled another patch of color on it. He had to make sure it looked _just_ right before he could show it to Knockout.

At last, he held up his finished masterpiece. _Perfect_ , he thought with a grin. He ran over to his guardian. "Knockout!"

Knockout lowered the datapad he was reading and turned his attention to the sparkling, who was bouncing on his heels in excitement.

"I drew a picture of me and Buddy so you can see what he looks like!" Sideswipe exclaimed, beaming.

Knockout's lips twitched in amusement. "Did you, now? Let's see it."

Sideswipe slid the foil on top of his guardian's datapad. Knockout bent to examine it.

And froze.

The drawing showed two figures smiling out at the viewer. It wasn't terribly well-done, but one of the figures was recognizable as Sideswipe. And the other—

Knockout's fingers trembled as he traced the outline of the second mech. That broad build…the blue-and-white paint job…amber optics, set in a red face…

It was Breakdown. A child's drawing of Breakdown.

"Sides," Knockout whispered, his voice hoarse. "Where did you see this mech?"

"I told you, that's Buddy." Sideswipe frowned at his guardian's slowness. He leaned closer to point out the drawing's details. "See, he has yellow optics, not red or blue like you and me. And he sparkles a little bit, but I didn't know how to show that."

Knockout stared silently at the picture, not blinking. The foil crumpled between his fingers as his grip tightened.

"Hey, you're wrinkling it!" Sideswipe protested. Knockout snapped out of his trance and hastily released the drawing. Sideswipe watched him take deep vents. This reaction concerned him; he hadn't meant to make his guardian upset.

Finally Knockout looked at him again. "Is Break—I mean, Buddy—here now?" He asked softly.

Sideswipe shook his head. "No; he left a while ago. He can't ever stay very long."

"I see." Knockout muttered. He held up the picture again. He'd never believed in ghosts or spirits, but then, these past few years had been full of improbable things. After seeing Terrorcons, Predacons, and the Unmaker himself, was the concept of ghosts really that far-fetched? Could it be—

No _._ Knockout set the foil down. The more likely explanation was that Sideswipe had found a picture of Breakdown somewhere and used him as a model for his imaginary friend. That was all. Nothing supernatural about it.

Still…seeing Breakdown and Sideswipe together warmed his spark. He handed the picture back to his sparkling. "It's an excellent drawing," he said. "You and Buddy are good friends, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh," Sideswipe nodded. "He's nice."

"That's good. It's good to have a friend you can count on." Knockout smiled wistfully. "Like Breakdown and me. We had a lot of good times together. In fact, there was one mission—"

Knockout talked for hours, recalling the times he'd spent with his partner. Sideswipe sat on his lap, enraptured by the adventures Knockout related.

And in the background, unseen by either of them, a ghostly mech listened in on the stories. Listened, and smiled at the memories they brought back.


	13. Trouble

**The stories have really been flowing lately. Hopefully y'all don't mind an update every few days. Please review!**

* * *

 _9 Years Post-War_

The room was silent—no sound but the ticking of the clock and the occasional clink of metal as Sideswipe fidgeted. He snuck a glance at the official-looking femme behind the desk. The disapproval in her stare was almost tangible. All she'd done for the last twenty minutes was glare at him in that silently-judging way. It made the waiting even worse.

Behind him, Sideswipe heard the door slide open. He twisted around in his seat to see Knockout step into the office. His guardian glanced at him only briefly before turning his attention to the femme. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes; thank you for coming in." The femme picked up a datapad as Knockout seated himself next to Sideswipe. "I—" She stopped suddenly as she got a good look at Knockout. That seemed to happen a lot, Sideswipe had noticed. Bots saw the red optics and they just froze.

"Uh…" The femme struggled to recover. "I… You're Sideswipe's guardian."

"Obviously." Knockout gaze didn't falter. "What's the problem? Did he do something wrong?"

"Uh…" Seeming to regain her composure, the femme looked at her datapad again. "Well... It seems that this afternoon, he started a fight with one of the other sparklings."

"A fight." Knockout's tone was neutral, as was his expression. Sideswipe shrunk farther into his seat.

"Yes; according to his teacher, he began arguing with one of his classmates, and it escalated to blows. Witnesses say Sideswipe initiated the physical contact."

Knockout nodded, face still indiscernible. "Will he be suspended?"

"At this point, no. But he will have to serve detention. And if there are any further offenses, he could be expelled."

"Understood."

Sideswipe sulked in his seat as the adults finished their meeting. This was all the council's fault, he thought. If they hadn't made him go to this stupid school, this wouldn't have happened. Why did he have to go to school anyway? Knockout could teach him everything he needed to know. Stupid council and their stupid rules…

After a few minutes, Knockout stood up and motioned for Sideswipe to come along. Sideswipe pushed himself off the chair and shuffled out the door. His guardian said nothing as they transformed and drove towards home. The silence was like a blade looming above Sideswipe's head. He was just waiting for it to drop.

At last, Knockout spoke. "Explain yourself, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe huffed. "Girder started it. He called me a glitch-head."

"I see." There it was again, that unreadable tone that could mean apathy or veiled anger. It was almost worse than yelling. Knockout pulled to a stop outside the medical center. Sideswipe transformed, expecting them to go inside. But Knockout just sat there, motionless.

Sideswipe stood awkwardly next to the larger car until he could stand it no longer. "Are you mad at me?"

"Not really," Knockout replied, to Sideswipe's shock. "It's a typical reaction to insults, especially for sparklings."

Sideswipe relaxed, relieved. "So I'm not in trouble?"

"I didn't say that." Knockout transformed. He folded his arms and gave Sideswipe the stern look he reserved for the most serious of parenting offenses. "Tell me, Sideswipe: why is it wrong to fight?"

Sideswipe stared at the ground. "Because we're supposed to be peaceful and not hurt other bots," he muttered.

"A typical Autobot answer. But no," Knockout said, surprising the sparkling again. "The correct answer is, because it's stupid. It risks injury, scratches your paint, and rarely makes a lasting difference. Only an idiot tries to solve problems by fighting. Are you an idiot, Sideswipe?"

Sideswipe shook his head. "But he made fun of me—"

"Kid, if I had a credit for every jibe that's been thrown at me, I'd be rich. And if I picked a fight with everyone who insulted me, I'd be dead." The older mech crouched and looked Sideswipe soberly in the optics. "It's not pleasant to be made fun of, but it won't usually kill you. Brawling, on the other hand, might. If you want to survive, you need to learn to tell the vital battles from the non-vital ones—and pick your fights accordingly."

Knockout stood again. "The smart thing to do is to avoid direct confrontation whenever possible. If you absolutely _must_ retaliate, do it in an indirect way—and make sure no one can prove you did it. Understand?"

Sideswipe nodded slowly.

"Good." Knockout steered him into the house. "Unfortunately, there _are_ times when a fight can't be avoided. When that happens, you need to be prepared. And there's no time to start like the present."

Sideswipe stared at Knockout, confused. Knockout was oblivious to his disbelief as he tapped his chin in thought.

"For the next month, you'll spend your free time training with me. We'll consider that your punishment. Evasive maneuvers will probably be the most useful for you right now, but once you've mastered those, we can work on basic hand-to-hand—"

"Wait," Sideswipe interrupted, not believing the words coming out of his guardian's mouth. "You're gonna teach me to fight?"

"I'm going to teach you to _survive_ ," Knockout clarified. "Strictly defensive techniques, for emergency use only. If you use them on anyone at school, you'll be cleaning the entire house for a month. Got it?"

"Got it."

"And…don't mention this to anyone else," Knockout added as they went inside. "I doubt the Autobots would understand."

Sideswipe agreed. His guardian was weird. But maybe, he thought, it was a good kind of weird.


	14. Removal

_10 years Post-War_

Sideswipe rolled up to his home and transformed. He stumbled a bit as he did so; he was still getting used to his upgraded frame. It felt weird to suddenly be so much taller; it messed with his balance. Taking each step carefully, he went to the back door—the one that led to their living quarters rather than the medical clinic.

"Knockout! I'm home!" he called as he went inside. He stopped abruptly, however, as several pairs of optics turned on him. There were strange mechs sitting in the living room—three of them, all marked with the emblem of the Council. Authority figures of some kind. Knockout sat across from them. He didn't look happy.

One of the strange mechs smiled at Sideswipe, but it didn't quite seem sincere. "So this is the sparkling?"

"His name is Sideswipe," Knockout said testily. Sideswipe could hear the barely-concealed anger in his voice. Whoever these mechs were, Knockout didn't like them.

"What's going on? Who are you?" Sideswipe demanded, perturbed by his guardian's demeanor.

"We're with the Council's Department of Sparkling Care," said a stone-faced mech. "We're here to ask your guardian some questions."

"Here, come with me," said the mech with the not-real smile. He got up and held out his hand to Sideswipe. "We'll go talk somewhere away from all the boring adults."

Sideswipe shied away from the hand. He looked at his guardian for direction.

"Go with him, Sides. It'll be all right." But Knockout looked grim as he said it. Sideswipe reluctantly took the mech's hand and let himself be led into the next room.

"So your name is Sideswipe, huh? Nice name," the mech said cheerfully.

"I guess," Sideswipe muttered. "Why do you need to talk to Knockout?"

"Oh, it's just protocol," The mech waved his hand dismissively, but his fake smile wasn't fooling Sideswipe. "Tell me about Knockout. What's he like?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "He's cool, I guess. He takes me driving and sings to me when I can't sleep and—" Sideswipe clamped his mouth shut; he'd nearly mentioned the sparring lessons. "—and he teaches me lots of cool stuff," he said instead.

"I see." The mech pulled out a datapad.

"What's that for?"

"Just so I can write things down," The mech said, smiling again. "So does Knockout take care of you? Make sure you get all the fuel and maintenance you need?"

"Duh; he's my guardian. That's what they do."

"Of course, of course," The mech said hastily. "And how does he treat you? Does he ever get mad?"

"Everybot gets mad sometimes," Sideswipe replied with a shrug. Why was the mech asking about this?

"But does he get mad at you a lot?

Sideswipe thought about that. "Not really," he decided. "Usually only if I do something stupid, like get myself damaged. He says it's a good thing he's a medic, because no one else would be able to afford my medical bills."

"Uh-huh," the mech nodded. He scribbled something on the datapad. "And…does he ever hurt you when gets angry?"

"No. He'd never hurt me." Sideswipe's brow furrowed. "Why are you asking? Did someone say he did?"

"No, but…" The mech fidgeted, as if he didn't want to go on. Sideswipe wasn't giving up easily, though. He widened his optics in what Knockout called his "kicked turbopuppy" look. Knockout found it hard to resist; this mech should succumb to it easily.

"Well…" The mech faltered at the sight of the wide, innocent optics. "I'm…afraid your guardian doesn't have the best history. The Council members think it's be best if we found you another guardian more suited to care for a sparkling."

"But Knockout takes care of me just fine! Why—" Suddenly, it hit him. Sideswipe narrowed his optics at the mech. "It's because he was a Decepticon, isn't it?"

The mech looked awkward. "His record—"

"He's not a Decepticon anymore! He's an Autobot, and he's a good mech! There's no reason for me to leave!"

"We just think someone more suitable—"

"NO!" With that, Sideswipe turned and ran. The mech yelled for him to stop, but Sideswipe ignored it. He burst into the living room, optics blazing. Before any of the mechs could stop him, Sideswipe raced across the room and threw himself into Knockout's arms. His guardian stiffened at the touch—he wasn't a huggy kind of bot. But Sideswipe clung to him as if his life depended on it.

"Listen, you!" He shouted at the startled officials. "Knockout is the _best_ guardian in the world and I'm not leaving him! You can't make me!" He buried his head in his guardian's chestplate. It took a second for Knockout to overcome his surprise, but when he did, he immediately returned the embrace. Sideswip held to his as tight as he could in case the other mechs tried to drag him away. He wasn't leaving. He wasn't.

There was silence for several long moments as Knockout held him. One of the official mechs finally cleared his throat awkwardly. "I, uh, believe we have enough information for now," he mumbled. "Thank you for your time."

"I believe you know where the door is." Knockout replied coldly. He didn't let go of Sideswipe as the strange mechs left. The door shut behind them, and the house was once again silent, empty but for the two of them.

"I don't want to leave," Sideswipe repeated, huddling close to his guardian's spark.

Knockout rubbed his back comfortingly. "I don't want you to leave either, _mein leben_."

* * *

 **Thanks to journal129 for beta-reading.**  
 **Also, I decided to do a new thing and put the date-in years since the war-at the beginning of the chapter. To help the timeline be clearer. What do you guys think?**


	15. Love at First Sight

**Sorry for the lack of fics, guys... it's been a bad week for writing. Hope this makes up for it. I'd love any constructive criticism you guys want to offer.**

* * *

 _12 years Post War_

Living on a rebuilding planet meant you didn't have much of a choice in medics. Many bots only came to Knockout because he was their only option. They were reluctant to submit themselves to care of an ex-'Con.

His current patient, however, didn't seem to mind his red optics. In fact, her expression was admiring as Knockout repaired her door-wing.

"That should do it," Knockout said, making one final adjustment. "How does it feel?"

"Good as new," the femme assured him. She stepped gracefully down from the berth and flexed her door-wings. "You have a magic touch."

"Nice to have someone acknowledge that," Knockout smirked. The femme's gaze stayed fixed on him as they went to the lobby to settle up her bill.

"Sorry about this," Knockout apologized as he handed her the invoice. "But a mech does have to earn a living."

"Oh, I understand." The femme gave him a dazzling smile. But rather than just taking the bill and leaving, as most bots did, she lingered where she stood. "Tell me—Knockout, was it?—do you have a sparkmate?"

"Me? No, I'm afraid I'm a lonely bachelor."

"I see." Her door-wings twitched in anticipation. "And…is it against some law for doctors to have relationships with their patients?"

Knockout feigned thoughtfulness. ""Technically, yes…" he drawled. "But I've always considered it more of a suggestion than a rule."

"Is that so?" The femme batted her optics coquettishly. "Then—I hope this isn't too forward of me—would you care to go out sometime?"

Knockout was about to say something incredibly suave and charming when Sideswipe came in.

"Knockout, I'm home!" The sparkling called, drawing both Knockout's and the femme's attention. Sideswipe did a double-take as he saw the femme standing next to Knockout.

"Why don't you go get a snack from the kitchen, Sides? I'll be right there," Knockout said before the sparkling could ask any questions. Sideswipe nodded and headed for the kitchen. The femme watched him leave the room. It was then Knockout noticed the distaste on her face.

"I…didn't know you were a guardian," she stammered.

"Have been for 10 years." Knockout watched her as she tried to maintain a neutral expression. "I take it you're not fond of sparklings?"

"Not very," she admitted with a wan smile. "I'm afraid I've never had the patience to put up with them. They're just so… needy."

"They can be rather difficult at times," Knockout agreed. The femme relaxed upon hearing her opinion corroborated.

"All the more reason to go out, then." She purred, leaning in closer. "Get away from the little nuisance for a while."

"A tempting offer, to be sure." Knockout gently took the femme's arm and led her to the door. "Unfortunately, looking at my current schedule, I don't think it would be possible right now."

"Oh." The femme's door-wings drooped in disappointment, but she wasn't about to give up so easily. "When, then?"

"How about… never?" Knockout pressed the control panel. The door snapped shut over the femme's shocked face.

"Nuisance…" Knockout muttered bitterly. He dusted his hands off, as if removing some undesirable substance from them, before going to the kitchen.

Sideswipe was at the table, sipping a cube of energon and studying his homework. He looked up as Knockout sat down next to him. "Who was that femme you were talking to?" He asked, cocking his head curiously.

"No one important, _mein leben_. So how was your day?"


	16. Sick Day

**I don't know if Cybertronians normally get sick, but I'll say they do for this fic. There's nothing cuter than a father caring for his sick child. :3  
**

 **Also-I just want to thank everyone who follows this story. In all of the stories I've put on , I haven't gotten a single trollish or negative comment on any of them. I realize how rare that is for any author, and I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for it. Thank you all for your compliments, and your faith in me. You guys are all amazing. :)**

* * *

Sideswipe sniffled. The action didn't help clear his clogged vents. He twisted on his berth, trying to get more comfortable on the layer of cold packs beneath him.

It was no fun being sick. What was the point of getting to stay home from school if you felt too lousy to enjoy it? He was stuck in this room until the virus got cleared out of his system. Nothing to do but listen to the whir of his overtaxed cooling systems. He let out a sigh.

Just as Sideswipe was getting tired of staring at the ceiling, Knockout slipped into the room. The sparkling propped himself up as his guardian came over.

Knockout handed him a glass of thick pink liquid-more of that terirble medicine. "How are you feeling, Sides?"

"Awful." Sideswipe sniffed. "This sucks."

"It won't last long," Knockout assured him, feeling the sparkling's helm. Still overheated, but not dangerously so. Thankfully. "This kind of virus is mild-you'll be back to normal in a few days."

"I don't _want_ to wait a few days! I'm _bored_! Bored, bored, bored!" Sideswipe flopped on his back dramatically. Knockout ignored the rant, instead checking the cold packs to see if they needed changing. Once he was satisfied, he pulled up a chair next to the berth.

"I may not be able to cure viruses, but I can do something about boredom." Knockout began pulling things out of his subspace: foil sheets, crayons, a data pad. He laid them out on the berth-side table for Sideswipe to see. "I've been preparing these all morning. The datapad has some of your favorite songs and several stories I thought you'd like. There should be enough material here to entertain you until you recover."

Despite his misery, Sideswipe managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Knockout."

"Of course." Knockout propped his chin in his hands and stared at Sideswipe intently. "Is there anything else I can do for you, _mein leben_?"

Sideswipe looked over the assembled items, hesitating. What he really wanted wasn't among them.

"Could you... tell me a story?" he finally asked. "About the war? And Breakdown?"

Knockout's dull expression softened. "It'd be my pleasure. Drink your medicine, and I'll tell you about the time we nearly got eaten by a giant space slug."

Sideswipe made a face, but he obediently sipped his pink sludge. Hopefully the space slugs would be cool enough to take his mind off the taste.


	17. Exclusion

_30 years Post-War_

Knockout checked his chronometer. Twenty minutes until Sideswipe got out of school.

He wiped a smudge off the examination table. For once, there was a lull in the stream of patients, allowing him to give the medbay a proper cleaning before his next appointment. Keep things sanitary and all.

He checked the chronometer again. Eighteen minutes. With a quiet huff, he went back to wiping the table.

It amazed him how quickly Sideswipe was growing. He'd be getting his third frame soon. Then he'd be a proper youngling, not a sparkling. He was maturing, too. It seemed like only yesterday he's seek refuge in Knockout's room after a nightmare, or demand a bedtime story before recharge. He resisted such things now. "That stuff is for newsparks," he insisted. It was probably good that he'd gotten more independent; Knockout had been so busy lately. New Iacon was a thriving city now, which meant his medical practice was swamped. He didn't have much free time to spend with Sides anymore.

Knockout finished with the table. He glanced around his medbay. The counters were sparkling clean, the supplies were set out neatly, and everything was in perfect order. And he still had an hour before his next appointment. Nothing to do now except wait for Sides to come home.

 _Or…_ Knockout grinned. Why wait for Sides? He wadded up his cleaning rag and tossed it in the trash on his way out. Locking the clinic up behind him, he transformed and drove off toward the school. It'd been ages since he'd accompanied Sides home; this was a perfect opportunity for some quality time. Perhaps they could take the long way back to the clinic—enjoy a leisurely drive around the city before he had to get back to work. Maybe even have a race. That would be nice.

The schoolyard was empty when Knockout arrived. He parked in front of the entrance and waited. While he was here, maybe he could meet some of Sideswipe's school friends. The sparkling spoke of them often, but he'd never brought them to the house. Knockout wondered sometimes if these "friends" were real, or if Sideswipe had created more fictional bots to keep Buddy company.

A bell sounded from the school building. A few minutes later, sparkling of various sizes began to trickle out. Knockout struggled to find Sideswipe among the multi-colored jumble of frames. Wait—there! Next to those blue and green sparkling. Sides was laughing and chatting with them. So his friends _were_ real. Good. Knockout honked his horn to alert the sparkling to his presence. Sideswipe's head shot up at the noise. He spotted Knockout immediately. But rather than the excitement Knockout was expecting, his expression morphed into one of horror.

Sideswipe raced across the yard like there was a Terrorcon on his tail. He screeched to halt next to Knockout. "What are you doing here?!" he hissed.

"I—just thought I'd pick you up. We haven't driven together in a while." Knockout explained. The fear in Sideswipe's voice shocked him. Sides glanced back at his friends as they approached. His optics were practically bugging out.

"Whatever you do, don't transform!" He begged in a whisper. Knockout was speechless. He sat stunned as Sideswipe spun to greet his friends. "Hey, guys, sorry for running off. I didn't know my guardian was coming."

"This is your guardian?" The dark green sparkling asked.

"Uh-huh. Say hi, Knockout."

Knockout shook himself from his stupor. "Nice to meet you."

"Whoa, your alt-mode is way cool" Gushed the blue sparkling. He walked around to examine Knockout from all angles. "You got it on Earth, didn't you? During the Great War?"

"That's right." Knockout puffed up proudly. "Humans have their flaws, but they _can_ make some lovely automobiles."

"That's so cool that you were in the war." The green sparkling said, grinning. "Sides told us you were an officer. Didja kick a lot of 'Con keister?"

"I—" Knockout stopped as the last question sunk in. He turned his mirrors to see Sideswipe. Sides was staring at the ground. He fidgeted as he stood, obviously feeling uncomfortable. Or guilty.

"…Yes, I did." Knockout finally replied. "In fact, I was one of the mechs they feared most. I'd love to tell you all about the terror I caused the Decepticons, but I really need to get back to work. Ready to go, Sides?"

Sideswipe seemed relieved to bid his friends farewell. He and Knockout drove back down the road. The silence was suffocating.

"…Your friends seem nice," Knockout remarked. "You should invite them over sometime."

"Um… Maybe… They're kinda busy, so…" Sideswipe trailed off. The answer was vague, but it told Knockout everything he needed to know.

"So why didn't you want me to transform?" He asked, even though he'd already guessed why.

Sideswipe's mirrors twitched awkwardly. "It's just… I never told them what side you were on, and… They'd be able to tell from your optics… They wouldn't understand, you know?"

"Hmm." Knockout grunted. The silence fell again.

"...You know, the clinic has been so busy lately," Knockout finally spoke again. "I probably won't be able to pick you up again anytime soon."

"That's okay!" Sideswipe tried to conceal his relief. "I know you're busy. It's probably good if I don't bring anyone over, then we won't bother you."

"How considerate." Knockout muttered. He didn't speak again until they'd reached home.

Yes, Sideswipe was growing up… And Knockout wasn't sure he liked it.


	18. Don't Need Help

_40 years Post-War_

Sideswipe cracked the back door open and peered inside. No sign of Knockout. He eased the door open the rest of the way. Cradling his arm, he crept to the hallway. The med-bay door was closed. Good; hopefully Knockout was busy with a patient. Sideswipe tiptoed to the supply room with all the stealth he could muster and slipped inside.

"Cold packs, cold packs…" he muttered as he scanned the box labels. Ah! There. He quickly took one of the pouches. He crushed it between his fingers to activate it and slapped it on his injured wrist. Blissful cold spread across the aching circuits. He gave a sigh of relief. He grabbed a second pack for later and crept back out of the room. Now if he could just get to his room without—

The med-bay door slid open. "Sides?"

Scrap. Sideswipe spun around, hiding his arm behind his back. His guardian stood in the doorway of the med-bay. He did not look happy. "Where have you been?! I expected you home hours ago!"

"I was doing… stuff." Sideswipe explained lamely. He edged toward the staircase, hoping to escape further inquiry. No such luck.

"What's wrong with your arm?" Knockout demanded, stepping forward.

"Nothing!" Sideswipe attempted to sidestep, but Knockout caught his arm. Sideswipe suppressed a cry of pain as his guardian pulled the injured limb from behind his back.

Knockout's optic widened when he saw the dented plating. "What did you _do_?!"

"Nothing! It's fine!"

"It's not fine, your arm's mangled!" Knockout brought the arm closer to better assess the damage. "How did this happen? Who did you get into a fight with this time?"

Sideswipe pursed his lips. The damage hadn't come from a fight at all. He'd been free-running in the city and had landed wrong while trying to jump to another rooftop. But of course Knockout didn't bother to ask before jumping to his own conclusions. "It's not that bad," he muttered.

"I'll be the judge of that. Come on—" Knockout tried to pull him to the medbay, but Sideswipe had had enough.

"I don't need repairs!" He yanked his arm out of Knockout's grip. The medic started to protest, but Sideswipe cut him off. "I'm not a sparkling anymore, Knockout! I don't need you to fuss over me!"

With that, Sideswipe scooped up the cold packs he'd dropped and stormed off, leaving Knockout frozen in place. As Sideswipe stomped up to his room, he tried to convince himself that the Knockout's hurt expression had just been his imagination.

* * *

 **Sorry it's such a short chapter. Life's been busy lately and I just wanted to get something up this week. Big thanks to journal129 for beta-reading!**

 **ALSO: for all you _Hardened Sparks_ fans, there's a poll on my profile page about the sequel I'm planning. Vote for which character you'd like to see as the villain!**


	19. Bailout

_42 years Post War_

Skybeam had never seen an Autobot with red optics before. Nor had he ever seen a Decepticon enter the police station of their own accord. So the ruby-eyed mech approaching the desk unnerved him somewhat. Skybeam met the mech's gaze, surreptitiously moving his hand to the silent alarm button just in case. "Can I help you, sir?"

The mech folded his arms and glared down at the clerk. "I'm here to bail out my idiot youngling."

"Ah." Skybeam took his finger off the alarm and began shuffling through the files on his desk. "What's the name?"

"Sideswipe. He was picked up for trespassing, apparently."

"Mm-hmm. Ah, here we are." Skybeam scrolled through the file's information. "Trespassing and resisting arrest. I'll need ID and the bond money, and you'll have to fill out these forms."

The scarlet mech filled out the paperwork at a furious pace while Skybeam sent someone to collect the youngling. Soon, an officer stepped out of the holding area with a young bot in tow. The youngling was painted red like his guardian, though he sported the blue optics more typical of Autobots. He glanced briefly at his guardian before looking away in shame.

"Here ya go," the police-mech removed the stasis cuffs and steered Sideswipe to the desk. "We'll send you instructions when the trial date has been set. Make sure he doesn't skip town before then, or you won't get your bail money back."

"Oh, he won't be going anywhere," Knockout said darkly. He took the youngling's arm and led him out of the station. "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, officers. This won't happen again."

The drive home was unpleasant. Knockout said nothing, but he was practically radiating disappointment. It made it difficult for Sideswipe to say anything.

"Um… thanks for picking me up…" Sideswipe finally stammered. "It was kinda grody in there."

"What did you expect? It's a jail." Knockout snapped. "I can't _believe_ you got arrested."

"It wasn't a big deal. I wasn't hurting anyone; the property owner overreacted!"

"Oh, of course. He overreacted. You did nothing wrong at all." The cold sarcasm made Sideswipe wince. "Just like the neighbor overreacted when you broke his window. And that store owner overreacted when you vandalized her building."

"That wasn't me, it was Flashbang!"

"So your _friend_ vandalized her building. If that's the kind of company you keep, it's no surprise this happened." Knockout growled. "You can't keep hanging out with delinquents, Sides. If you spend enough time around criminals, you turn into one yourself."

"My friends aren't criminals!" Sideswipe protested. "So we get in trouble sometimes, so what? It's harmless fun."

"It's not harmless for your permanent record. And it's not going to stay harmless. These things always escalate, Sides! Tagging a wall doesn't have the same thrill anymore and next thing you know, you're in the detention center for dealing circuit-boosters. Which, if I remember correctly, is where Flashbang ended up."

"I don't do circuit-boosters," Sideswipe muttered.

"Good; makes sure it stays that way." Knockout let out an exhausted sigh. "I can't keep doing this, Sides. I have a clinic to run; bills to pay. I can't spend all my time cleaning up your messes."

"Nobody asked you to." the youngling huffed. Silence fell once more.

* * *

 **Teenagers...**

 **-**  
 **The poll for the Hardened Sparks sequel is still up on my profile, so please vote! Also, thanks to journal129 for beta-reading.**


	20. Spectator

_45 years Post War_

It was times like this that Breakdown hated being a ghost.

He watched forlornly as Knockout and Sideswipe continued their shouting match. This seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Sides' recent habit of getting arrested wasn't helping any. And all Breakdown could do was watch the mess unfold before him.

"You're going to end up in the stockade!" Knockout yelled, fists balled up as if he wanted to strangle something. "Can't you go a day without getting into trouble? I can't afford to keep paying your bail!"

"Then don't!" Sideswipe shot back. "I can take care of myself, I'm not a sparkling anymore!"

"Then show some maturity!"

"Please stop fighting," Breakdown said quietly. His words went unheard.

"Sorry I can't be a perfect little angel!" Sideswipe snapped as he stormed upstairs.

"I don't want you to be perfect! I just want you to use your _brain_ once in a while!" Knockout's tirade was cut off by a door slamming shut. The medic made a noise like a choking animal and stomped off to his own quarters. A second door-slam echoed the first. Breakdown was left alone in the suddenly-silent room. He sighed.

With some concentration, Breakdown began drifting up to the second floor. Moving as a ghost was weird—you didn't walk, you just sort of willed yourself in the direction you wanted to go. It had taken some getting used to, but it had its perks. Sideswipe's door was closed, probably locked, but that wasn't a problem for Breakdown. He passed through the wall into the youngling's room. It had changed a lot over the years—toy cars and foil drawings had been replaced by video games and posters of racers. Sideswipe himself was lying facedown on his berth, fuming silently. Breakdown hovered next to him, wishing he could comfort the youngling.

"Knockout means well, y'know." Breakdown murmured. "He loves you. He's just…not good at showing it. Never has been. You don't learn that kind of stuff in the Decepticons."

Sideswipe didn't reply. Breakdown hadn't expected him to; the kid had lost the ability to see or hear him decades ago. But Breakdown still talked to him-out of habit or out of denial, he wasn't sure.

"Just… try to listen to him, okay?" Breakdown sighed. "He knows a lot more than you think. Doesn't want you ending up where he did." With that, he drifted back out of the room. He returned to the house's ground level. Keyboard music was bleeding through Knockout's closed door into the hall. No surprise; Knockout had always vented his feelings through music when there wasn't a racetrack or a helpless patient available. Breakdown phased through the door. Knockout was in front of his keyboard. He was pounding the keys with such vehemence, it was amazing they didn't break. He must've been really ticked off; he was usually more careful with the instrument.

"You shouldn't be so hard on Sides," Breakdown said. "He's a kid; they do dumb things. It's how they learn. Just be patient with him."

Knockout continued his pounding, oblivious to Breakdown's presence. Breakdown shuttered his optics. He was so tired of it all. "I know you well enough to tell you care about Sides. But he can't tell. He needs to hear you say it. Would it kill you to tell him you love him just once?"

His voice was raising. He was getting mad. "What's wrong with you?!" He screamed in Knockout's face. The lack of reaction, though expected, only made him angrier. "What's wrong with _both_ of you?! I know Sides is acting like an idiot, but your stupid pride isn't helping! If you tried to understand each other instead of butting heads, you wouldn't be having problems! Can't you see that? You're driving each other away over _nothing_!"

In a rage, Breakdown punched the wall. His fist went right through. Slag, he wanted to hit something. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. He was a spectre of the past, watching the living ruin their lives and being helpless to stop it. He glared at his friend, his _stupid_ best friend, and did something he'd never have done when he was alive. He smacked Knockout upside the helm.

Breakdown didn't expect a reaction. But as his hand passed through Knockout, the medic jumped. He spun around, looking frantically around the room.

"What the…" Knockout muttered, rubbing the back of his helm. Breakdown was stunned.

"Did—did you feel that?" Breakdown gasped. Knockout didn't reply. Breakdown crouched down to look him in the optic. As Knockout stared through him, he thought he saw a spark of recognition in his friend's optics.

"Breakdown?..." Knockout breathed, face utterly confused.

"I'm here, Knockout! Can you see me? I'm here!" Breakdown waited on tenterhooks for a response, any response. But as Knockout stared at him, the acknowledging light faded from his optics.

Knockout turned back to the keyboard with a sigh. "I wish you were here, Breakdown… I could use some help." He began half-heartedly plunking out a tune.

Breakdown stayed frozen where he was. The disappointment shouldn't have been so crushing—but it was. His shoulders sagged. He couldn't take this anymore… couldn't take being a spectator in this drama being acted out. If this was the extent of his involvement, he might as well stay in the Allspark.

He cast one last glance at his old friend. "Please, Knockout," he murmured as he faded away, "Don't do anything you'll regret…"

* * *

 **Things are coming to a head. Something's going to snap soon.**

 **Thanks to AutobotGuy710 for betareading. I'm closing the poll on my profile next week, so be sure to vote if you haven't already!**


	21. Bête Noire

Knockout wiped down the operating table, cleansing it of the remnants of his last surgery. "Any more patients waiting, Breakdown?"

"That was the last of them." His assistant confirmed. "What do you want me to do now?"

"Start cataloguing the salvage parts. And be careful this time; we can't afford to have you breaking things."

"I didn't break anything," Breakdown grumbled, but he did as he was told. Knockout mopped up the last of the energon and cleaned his tools. Got to keep everything operation-ready—the flow of patients never stopped for long on the _Nemesis_.

His comm-link chirped suddenly. He answered it with a huff of annoyance. "Yes?"

"Knockout." The gravelly voice of their leader filled his audials. Automatically, he stood at attention. "Come to the brig. I have need of your… talents."

"I'll be right there, my liege." Knockout set down the saw he'd been sharpening and left for the brig. "Talents," Megatron had said. That meant there was a prisoner to interrogate. Knockout grinned. He was, of course, a brilliant medic when it came to repairs, but interrogations were where he really shone. He wondered which unfortunate Autobot would be the recipient of his skills.

The brig door slid open with a hiss. Megatron stood at the far end, next to a shackled mech. His head was bowed, obscuring his face, but Knockout noticed that the prisoner's finish was the same crimson color as his own. A shame he had to ruin such an exquisite paint job. But orders were orders. He stepped up to Megatron and bowed. "How may I be of assistance, my liege?"

Megatron jerked his head at the mech chained to the wall. "This Autobot is being uncooperative. See if you can loosen his tongue."

"I'll do more than loosen it," Knockout promised with a smirk. He transformed his hands, releasing his signature buzz-saws. They glinted wickedly in the dull light. As he approached his victim, the prisoner looked up. Blue optics stared into red ones.

Knockout froze.

Sideswipe was staring back at him. But… that was impossible. Sideswipe hadn't even been alive during the war, how could he be a prisoner on the _Nemesis_? And yet that was undoubtedly his sparkling shackled to the wall.

"What are you waiting for, Knockout?" Megatron demanded from behind him. "Show this insolent whelp why we call you the 'Doctor of Doom.'"

One of Knockout's buzzsaws turned on. He tried to deactivate it, but it wouldn't shut off. His arm moved, bringing the saw closer to Sideswipe's neck cables. Knockout wasn't controlling his motions anymore; he was just watching as some other force manipulated him. And the whole time, Sideswipe was staring into his optics, a look of abject terror on his face.

Sideswipe had never been scared of him before.

 _No…_

The light gleaming off the sharp blades—

 _No!_

The fear in Sideswipes optics as the saw fell—

 _NO!_

* * *

Knockout jolted awake. He stared at the ceiling for a long minute, his processor reeling. His spark pounded frantically in his chest as if trying to beat its way out. He let out a deep breath—partly from relief and partly from despair.

He sat up with a groan and rubbed his optics. This wasn't the first time he'd had the dream. It'd been a recurring nightmare ever since he'd adopted Sideswipe. He didn't have to be a psychiatrist to know what it meant. His processor, making a scenario in which his worst fears were realized. He wasn't sure which part of the nightmare was worse: that fact that he was hurting Sideswipe, or that Sides was afraid of him. Either way, the dream had been plaguing him more and more often lately. Perhaps because, in a way, his fears were coming true—

 _No! Stop that!_ Knockout snapped at himself. He was _not_ losing Sideswipe. He had _not_ failed as a guardian. Sides was just going through a phase. In a few years, once he'd matured a bit, he'd thank Knockout for trying to keep him in line. The resentment would go away and everything would be back to normal. He just had to be patient. And keep Sides out of jail in the meantime.

Knockout sighed. He was exhausted. He yearned to go back to recharge, but the nightmare still nagged at the back of his mind, wreaking havoc with his imagination. He got up and left his room. He needed to see Sideswipe—needed to remind himself that the sparkling was all right. Even if he knew it was just paranoia, he wouldn't be able to rest until he saw that his charge was safe in his berth.

The stairs creaked as he climbed to the second floor. He stepped as lightly as possible—it'd be awkward if he woke Sides up. The youngling didn't need to know about his guardian's night terrors. Plus, he'd throw a fit if he knew he was being checked on. Lately, Sideswipe shunned any kind of "hovering" behavior. He was so insistent that he didn't need any help, that he was grown up now and didn't want to be coddled. Knockout sighed. Time was moving far too quickly for his liking. Soon Sideswipe would be an adult—or what passed for an adult in their rebuilding society. He'd leave home and start his own life and Knockout would be alone. Again.

Knockout shook off the thought. He'd deal with that issue when he came to it. For now, he wasn't ready to let go. Reaching Sideswipe's door, he quietly eased it open. Just a quick peek to satisfy his panicking processor and then back to bed. Light from his headlights spilled through the gap in the doorway as he peered inside.

And froze.

He shoved the door the rest of the way open. His headlights lit up the room—the empty room. There was no one on the berth.

Sideswipe was gone.

* * *

 **To be continued...**  
 **I'll be closing the poll tomorrow, so vote now if you haven't already. But more importantly, I have a vital favor to ask of you all:**

 **In real life, I'm an aspiring comic book writer, and I'm publishing my FIRST EVER comic this month. If you all could help me spread the word, you will earn my eternal gratitude-and a specially dedicated TF story based on reader requests! See my profile for more details. Thank you, and I love you all!**


	22. Right and Wrong

_48 years Post War_

Knockout tore through the streets of Iacon, tires screeching against the ground. He checked his scanner again. Sideswipe's signal was a few miles away still. At least Knockout knew where he was. Some bots might have questioned the ethics of putting a tracer in your sparkling's armor. Knockout wasn't sure why. Every guardian should have a way of locating their charge in an emergency.

He had to fight to stay focused. Despite his best efforts, his processor was scrolling through a list of everything that could've happened to Sideswipe. Crashed; gotten mugged; fallen off a building. Overdosed on circuit-boosters; stumbled into a gang fight; _initiated_ a gang fight—

 _Shut up!_ Knockout snapped at himself. He couldn't afford to panic right now. He couldn't think clearly when he panicked. He would find Sideswipe. The youngling would be fine. There were plenty of logical, non-fatal reasons why he wasn't answering his comm-link. He repeated that to himself, but it became harder to believe as he entered the less-reputable section of Iacon. This was a haunt for criminals and vagabonds, and Sideswipe's signal was right in the middle of it.

He had to stay calm. No panicking.

However, Knockout's worry vanished as he pulled up outside a building. The signal was coming from inside what appeared to be a storage warehouse. However, the music bleeding through the walls suggested it was currently serving another purpose.

He was going to kill that youngling.

Knockout transformed and marched to the entrance. There was a young mechguarding it, undoubtedly meant to control who came in. He looked at Knockout as if he was going to turn him away, but a venomous glare silenced him. He shrunk into the corner of the doorway as Knockout barged past.

The warehouse was packed with young bots. They were of various sizes and builds, but most of them appeared to be around Sideswipe's age. Spotlights flashed a display of strobing colors over the crowd. Music reverberated through the building, so loud that it made Knockout's whole frame tremble. The faint tang of high-grade hung in the air. Knockout pushed his way into the crowd, ignoring the protests of those he shoved aside. He drew a lot of dirty looks as he maneuvered his way through the mass of bodies. Whether it was because of his pushiness or the fact that he was an adult crashing their party, he wasn't sure.

A burly youngling suddenly caught Knockout's shoulder as he attempted to squeeze past. Knockout paused to glance at the youngling. Definitely Sideswipe's age, although he was quite a bit broader and taller than Sides. He wore the aggressive yet vaguely confused expression of someone mildly intoxicated.

"What are you doin' here, geezer?" The youngling demanded, stumbling over the words. "Shouldn't you be gumming low-grade with the rest of the old mechs?"

Knockout ignored him, trying to push past again. The youngling blocked him, glaring with unfocused optics.

"Beat it, geezer." He slurred. "Go hang out with the other rust buckets."

"I don't have time for you, kid." Knockout retorted. "Get out of my way."

The youngling scowled at the curt response. "Or else what?" He sneered, putting a hand on Knockout's torso as if to shove him back.

There was a _snick_ of transforming and the youngling hastily backpedaled, optics fixed on the buzz saw Knockout had just deployed.

"Look, newspark: I couldn't care less what you and the rest of these morons are doing." Knockout growled. "All I'm here to do is get my charge. Now move aside—before I decide to have the enforcers crash your little shindig."

The mech scrambled out of the way. Knockout put the buzz saw away and strode past him, the crowd now moving to make space. Amazing what you could accomplish by flashing a weapon. He spotted Sideswipe at last, in a corner with a cluster of other younglings. He was doubled over with laughter—laughter that quickly ceased when he spotted his guardian.

"Knockout—!" He jumped up, looking panicked.

Knockout stopped him before he could launch into the list of excuses he'd no doubt prepared. "Home. Now."

"But—"

"That wasn't a request, Sides."

A few of the onlookers tittered. Sideswipe looked mortified. He puffed himself and glared at Knockout like a peacock trying to intimidate a Predacon. 'Why should I?" He asked impertinently. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"If the enforcers showed up right now, you and everyone here would end up in the stockade." Knockout snapped. He gestured to the crowd of minors now gawking at them. " _They_ can act like idiots all they want, but _you_ are my responsibility. And you are going home."

Sideswipe glanced at the gathering crowd. Trying to find a way to save face, no doubt. On any other day, in any other circumstance, Knockout might have found a way to accommodate his pride. But he was out of energy, out of patience, and out of any sympathy for Sideswipe's social life. He bent down into his youngling's face, jabbing him in the chest.

"You will either walk out that door right now," Knockout hissed. "Or I will _carry_ you out. Your choice, Sides."

Sideswipe narrowed his optics, searching his guardian for signs of bluffing. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The pair locked gazes, glowering at each other in a stare-down. In the end, it was Sideswipe who relented. He stormed off to the exit with a huff. Knockout followed him. The night seemed especially black as they left the brightly-lit warehouse. Behind them, the music pounded on, unfazed by the drama that had taken place.

"Well, they're never gonna respect me again," Sideswipe muttered. "I hope you're happy."

Knockout's thinly-worn patience snapped. He whirled on the youngling with such ferocity that Sides stumbled back. "I'm so _sorry_ , Sides." Knockout hissed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so _sorry_ I yanked you away from your rave. I'm so sorry I embarrassed you in front of your delinquent friends."

"They're not delinquents—!"

"Save it! I've tried to be patient, Sides, but this—" Knockout waved at the warehouse. "—This is the last straw! I won't tolerate any more. No more sneaking out, no more run-ins with the police. No more corrupting yourself with those wannabe criminals. This ends _now_."

Sideswipe merely glowered at the ground. Knockout turned briskly away, making it clear that the discussion was over. "If you spend your time in these places, with those bots, you're not going to like where you end up, Sides," He concluded. He started back toward the main road.

'At least my friends have never killed anybody." Sideswipe muttered.

Knockout froze. The words hit like a knife in his spark. He glanced back at Sideswipe, who was giving him a glare that could peel paint.

"Excuse me?" Knockout breathed, attempting to control his anger.

"You're such a hypocrite!" Sideswipe spat. "You're gonna give me grief about my behavior, with a past like yours? You want to see a bad influence, try looking in the mirror!"

The knife twisted deeper. "Stop it," Knockout murmured.

Sideswipe ignored the plea. His voice took on a mocking tone. "Sure, I've got some issues, but I haven't pledged allegiance to a genocidal warlord yet—so hey, doing good!"

"Stop it!" Knockout growled. "It's—it's not the same!"

"Like scrap it isn't!" Sideswipe jabbed him in the chest. "You worked for _Megatron_ , for Pit's sake! You've done worse things than me or any of my so-called delinquent friends combined! What gives you any right to correct me?!"

Knockout let out a wordless roar and swung at a street sign. His buzzsaw—which he couldn't even remember deploying—sliced through the metal like butter. The sign clanged hollowly as it hit the streets, echoing through the night. Knockout stood motionless, panting, in the sudden silence.

"What gives me the right?" He whispered, deceptively calm. He whirled back to face Sideswipe. "I'm your _guardian_ , that's what gives me the right! I have spent the last five decades keeping you in one piece, and I'm not going to watch you throw it all away!"

"It's not. Your. Choice!" Sideswipe cried. "I'm not a puppet, and I'm not a newspark, and I'm not a turbofox for you to train into submission! This is _my_ life, Knockout—and you can't tell me how to live it!"

With a whirr, Sideswipe folded into his alt-mode and tore off, leaving Knockout in the dust.

"Sideswipe?! Sides!" Knockout started after him, then, stopped. His teeth clenched painfully as his patience crumbled away.

"Fine!" He bellowed after Sideswipe's retreating form. "Go, then! But don't expect me to come running when you get yourself into slag!"

Knockout dropped into his own alt-mode and sped off in the opposite direction. He raced across Cybertron's landscape until the sun lit up the horizon. And all the while, he told himself that the tears stinging his optics were of anger and not pain.

* * *

 **Those of you who've read "Hardened Sparks" may have guessed (correctly) that this is the party mentioned in chapter 6.** **I have one more chapter planned for this story, then it's complete. I'd like to thank everyone who's read it, everyone who's inspired me to continue with their kind words and Favorites. You guys rock.**

 **I'd also like to thank everyone who visited my comic's Facebook page! (Link's still on my profile if you want to see what that's about) As promised, I will do a custom-written one-shot now based on reader request: you tell me what you want, everyone votes on it, and I write the winning idea. So tell me, my darling readers: what kind of story would you like to see from me?**


	23. End of the Beginning

_48 years Post-War_

Jazz wove his way through traffic. He was running late, as usual. The Council was not going to be happy. And this was one time he needed to be on the Council's good side; Bumblebee was counting on him to clear his name. The former scout had enough to worry about without the higher-ups thinking he'd gone rogue.

Jazz slowed as he reached the administrative building. He transformed, turning the simple action into a gymnastics routine. The guards at the door rolled their optics; they were used to Jazz's theatrics.

"'Sup, my mechs?" Jazz greeted casually as he entered the building. Jazz went straight up to the meeting room. In the atrium outside, several secretaries worked at desks and assisted citizens. Jazz walked up to one, a minicon with a pair of spectacles. "Hey, Tap."

"Do you have an appointment?" Tap asked drily.

"C'mon, man, you know who I am!"

"Protocol, Jazz."

Jazz huffed. He pulled out his badge and held it out for the minicon to scan. "Special Agent Jazz, here for a debrief on the Alchemor situation."

Tap scanned the badge without even looking up. "I'm afraid your appointment has been pushed back about thirty minutes."

"Figures." Jazz leaned against the desk. "Anything interestin' happen while I was gone?"

"Business as usual. Apart from one mech—"

Raised voices from across the atrium interrupted Tap. At a far desk, a scarlet mech was arguing with a harried-looking secretary.

"I've been petitioning for weeks now and you keep just giving me rhetoric! When is this going to become a priority for you?"

"Sir, please calm down—"

"Don't tell me to calm down! My sparkling has been missing for nearly three months now and that sorry excuse for a Council refuses to do anything about it!"

"Missing persons is a matter for the police, sir." The secretary said helplessly. "The Council has more urgent matters to attend to: a prison break, a rogue enforcer—"

"If you really believe Bumblebee went rogue, you're dumber than you look." The red mech snapped. Jazz raised an optic ridge at that. _I like this mech,_ he decided with a smirk. The secretary, on the other hand, was far less amused.

"Sir," the secretary said coldly, "The Council has an entire planet to run. They cannot just drop everything to track down an errant youngling. I suggest you talk to your local police force."

"I _have_ talked to them! They've been as helpful as a holey tarp in an acid rain storm!"

"Not our problem." The secretary cut him off. "Your petition will be addressed as time and resources permit. We will notify you when it's being considered."

A pair of security guards approached to escort the scarlet mech away, but he shook them off. "I can see myself out," he hissed. As he turned to shoo the guards away, Jazz noticed his optics were the same crimson color as his paint job. _A 'Con?_ Jazz watched him as he marched out of the atrium, slamming the door behind him.

"What was that about?" He asked Tap.

"Trouble," Tap scoffed with a look of distaste. "His name's Knockout. He's been in here every day for the past two weeks, demanding an audience with the council. Won't take no for an answer."

"He said something about a missing sparkling."

"A youngling, actually. Apparently his charge is missing and he wants the council's help tracking him down." Tap went back to his typing. "Personally, I don't think any foul play is involved. I saw the youngling's file; he has a criminal record as long as my arm. He's probably in a dealer's den somewhere getting high on circuit boosters."

"Hmm." Jazz's instincts were buzzing at him, though he couldn't understand why. But he'd survived a four-million-year war by paying attention to his instincts. There was a connection to this mech that he was missing. "Do you know the youngling's name?"

"Sideswing, or something like that."

Jazz's instincts went into overdrive. "Could it have been Sideswipe?"

"That was it," Tap affirmed with a nod. "As I said, a delinquent. Which isn't surprising considering his guardian's origins."

Jazz grunted softly in acknowledgement. He stared at the closed doors, mind on the mech who had just barged out of them.

* * *

The medical clinic was closed by the time Jazz got there. He stood in front of it, staring at the darkened windows. He'd come as soon as his meeting with the Council was over; it had been easy to find once he knew the mech's name. The "Missing" posters that were plastered around confirmed he was in the right neighborhood. Jazz glanced at the one he'd picked up. The youngling in the picture was definitely Bee's new teammate—that spiky helm-crest was unmistakable.

Jazz knocked on the clinic's door. A long minute passed with no answer. He knocked again. After another minute passed without a response, Jazz decided he'd been polite. He turned on his speakers and began blasting a tune, beating on the door in time with the music.

Soon enough, the door was wrenched open. Jazz cut off his speakers as the scarlet mech stepped out, red optics blazing with fury. "The clinic is closed, so unless you're missing a limb—"

"You Sideswipe's guardian?"

Knockout stopped his tirade. He blinked in confusion. "I…am. Are you with the police? Did you find him?!"

"No, I'm not, but yes, I did." Jazz gestured to the door. "Can I come in? It's kind of a long story."

Knockout listened with rapt attention as Jazz told him what was happening on earth. When Jazz had finished, he sat silently, processing the information.

"So Sideswipe is on Earth with a ship-full of escaped convicts?"

Jazz nodded. Knockout fell back into silence. "…But he's all right?"

"He was when I left." Jazz confirmed. Knockout sighed in relief.

"Thank Primus." The medic leaned back, rubbing his optics. He looked exhausted, but relieved. "And Bumblebee's with him?"

"Sure is. He's keepin' an eye on everyone."

Knockout nodded distractedly. "Hopefully Sides is listening to him." He let out a dry scoff, as if the thought was ridiculous. "So is the Council sending reinforcements?"

Jazz hesitated. "They're… talking about it. It might take a while to get a decision made."

Knockout scowled. "That's a no, then."

Jazz didn't answer. The truth was, the Council tended to ignore things if they weren't happening on-planet. If the Alchemor had crashed on Cybertron, they'd be all over it. But Earth was lightyears away, and as the humans said, "out of sight, out of mind." The Council seemed more concerned with Bumblebee's insubordination than with the criminals running loose. It made Jazz sick.

"Bee's got the situation in hand," Jazz assured him, though it sounded hollow even to him. "They're handlin' the whole thing really well."

Knockout snorted. "There are four bots and a minicon against a ship-load of high-security convicts. Those aren't good odds."

No, Jazz had to admit, they weren't. The two mechs sat in silence as they contemplated the matter. It was a bad situation. Jazz wished he could go back and help out, but he had his own responsibilities here. And until the Council got out of deadlock, Bee wouldn't be getting any help from them.

Across from him, Knockout sighed. "I don't suppose the Council would give me clearance to take a space bridge to earth?"

"I doubt it," Jazz replied. The questions sparked an idea, though. He sat up straighter. "But,..space bridge ain't the only way to get there."

"And where could I get a suitable space ship on short notice?" Knockout scoffed. "There aren't that many around, and you can't buy one unless you're a licensed pilot."

"Normally, no. But… I know a guy. Flywheels. He could set you up with a rig in a few days."

Knockout gave Jazz an incredulous look. "That sounds less than legal."

Jazz shrugged. "If you wanna get to Earth fast, you might have to bypass some of the legal routes."

The medic eyed Jazz with suspicion. "This coming from one of the Council's special agents?"

Jazz leaned forward, pressing his hands into a steeple. "Look… off the record. I might work for the Council, but I've got as much of a duty to my friends as to them. I don't wanna leave Bee on his own while the higher-ups yak about what to do. So let me ask you, Knockout—if I help get a ship, will you go give his team a hand?"

He and Knockout locked gazes as they appraised each other. After a minute, Knockout's lips twitched into a smirk.

"Jazz… There's not a force in this universe that could stop me."

* * *

 **The End**

 **And that, my friends, is the end of "Softened Spark." As many of you know, the story picks up again in "Hardened Sparks," so if you haven't read that yet, I recommend it (not that I'm biased or anything). Thanks again to everyone who's given this story a chance and supported me with reviews and Favorites.**  
 **Next plans: a few one-shots to get myself back in the right mindset, and then-the sequel! Which, per reader demand will feature AIRACHNID as the antagonist! *cue dramatic music***


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